


(Not) Quite Ready For Another Adventure

by JEAikman



Category: The Hobbit - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Time Travel, Angst, BAMF Bilbo, Bilbo Is Awesome, Canon-Typical Violence, Fluff, Gen, Humor, Hurt/Comfort, Thorin Has No Sense Of Direction, Time Travel, Time Travel Fix-It
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-12-21
Updated: 2016-10-28
Packaged: 2018-01-05 08:15:40
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 19
Words: 47,000
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1091657
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JEAikman/pseuds/JEAikman
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Bilbo hadn't exactly meant this when he'd said that to Gandalf as they boarded the ship.<br/>No, he had definitely not wanted to restart his life from just before it was overturned by dwarves, elves, dragons, skinchangers, and oh, let's not forget dragons and gold-sickness. And that Valar forsaken Ring. This was most definitely not what he had imagined.<br/>And yet, that was exactly what was happening. And he supposed, if it would just let him save his King and said King's nephews, as well as destroy the Ring before Frodo ever had a chance to be burdened with it - then maybe, just maybe, though it wasn't what he had imagined, it was exactly what he needed.</p><p>Basically a Bilbo-fixes-everything fic, because reasons. It won't be without its bumps in the road, though.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. ...Back Again?

**Author's Note:**

> May or may not edit this chapter later. But it's late and I wanted to get it posted. Enjoy.

Now, when Bilbo had said that he was quite ready for another adventure, this was not at all what he had meant. He had not asked to wake up in his house at Bag End a few months before dwarves from Erebor came to reclaim their homeland. Despite the many times he had wished that he could change everything that had happened, with the dragon and with the Arkenstone... and with Thorin and the boys, in no way had he asked to be allowed to relive it all.

"Oh bother and confusticate those dwarves." He muttered to himself as he stocked up on their favourite foods, and even headed over to Bree to see if he could find a dagger. That was when he noticed Gandalf and Thorin over at the other side of the Prancing Pony. There were mercenaries watching them, and Bilbo almost sighed with relief when Gandalf sat next to Thorin, scaring them off. He listened in to the conversation.

_"Thrain... urged... take back Erebor. Say the same to you..."_

_"Vagabond..."_

  
_"I imagine they regretted that."_

  
_"Black speech... promise of payment. Your head."_

  
Ah, Azog, then.

_"King's Jewel..."_

And oh dear, if that didn't make Bilbo's ears wiggle with fear. How he hated that stone. Almost as much as he hated the Ring for what it had done -wait- for what it had yet to do to his nephew. He could change that - he could take the ring and spare Frodo all that pain. It took all Bilbo had not to shout out in joy.

"Oh, thank you, Miriel." He murmured as she brought his dinner to him along with a half-pint of ale. He ate it gratefully - he was trying to wean off his seven meals a day in preparation for the adventure. He grinned to himself. This time he was going to be prepared. But what he hadn't prepared for, was a wizard plopping down right next to him.

"Bilbo! I thought I recognized your voice. Do you remember me?"

"Go away you meddling old wizard. It's not midsummer so you can't be around for the fireworks. I don't want to hear it."

"Oh, but my dear Bilbo, think of how much fun an adventure could be?"

"Hmm. Fun. That's odd. That fellow there doesn't seem particularly fun. He seems awfully serious, if you ask me. And with good reason, looks like." He said with a surreptitious glance at those who had been following Thorin.

"Indeed. But this might be the perfect time, since you're here - why are you here, anyway, dear Bilbo?" The hobbit shrugged, knocking back his ale.

"Oh, no reason in particular, I just thought I might get out of the Shire for a while. It's home, and it's very dear to me, of course, but there's so much more to the world than just Hobbiton, than just my mother's fine china and doilies." He said with a grin.

"There's more of that Took blood in you than I would have warranted, Bilbo." Gandalf looked over him with a thoughtful eye. Bilbo shrugged.

"Well, as long as you don't tell your dwarf friend the theory about that, that can keep being a good thing."

"Who is to say whether or not legends are true?"

"Hmm. There's some story or another of hobbits once living somewhere between the Greenwood and the Lonely Mountain, too, in times long forgotten. Any truth to that one?"

"Why, I am but a simple wizard-" But Thorin had chosen that moment to drop into their conversation.

"Indeed? I had not heard that, Master Hobbit-"

"Baggins, actually. Bilbo Baggins, at your service." He made a little bow, and he couldn't help the way his mouth twitched slightly as he lowered his head. Thorin did not seem to notice.

"Do you know any other legends of the lonely mountain?"

"Oh, not a lot, no. Hobbits don't generally go very far from home - unless prompted by meddling wizards." He shot a pointed look at Gandalf. "And those who go, if they come back at all, they're never the same." The wizard looked positively scandalised.

"Bilbo! If this is about the time with your mother and the cave troll, I assure you, the damage was only temporary. She was back to herself in no time."

"She never ate stew again. Couldn't even look at it without throwing up." Well, not for a good long while afterwards, at any rate.

"You exaggerate, my dear fellow." Bilbo shook his head and sighed.

"Oh, and like you don't make it sound like my great great uncle Bullroarer Took invented gold when he clubbed off the head of a goblin king? But no matter. Are... are you sure those men won't come back?" He whispered to Thorin, who nodded, eyeing the hobbit appraisingly.

"You could tell?"  
"They weren't being subtle. Look at this place - it's not where those sorts of folks can hide in plain sight." He shuddered. Thorin frowned at him.  
"What?"  
"Nothing. Just..." Something glittered in his eye, and Bilbo might almost call it recognition. But no. That couldn't be... oh well, he'd just have to check.  
"Looking for a grocer or a burglar?"At Thorin's frown, he held back a sigh of bitter disappointment. Never mind. If this Thorin didn't know the old him, then so much the better. He could make a much better impression this time around. But for now, the king-under-the-mountain-to-be was looking at him suspiciously.  
"Okay, so I admit I was listening in to a little of your conversation. All I really caught was that you were looking for a burglar and that someone was after your head." Thorin nodded.  
"And would you?" Gandalf asked. Bilbo squinted at him, hoping to look at least a little confused.  
"Would I what?"

"Consider being a burglar, on a quest?"

"Burglar doesn't sound very hon- I mean, respectable. For all that I'm a Took, my father was a Baggins, so I'm a Baggins too, you know. Have to be respectable."  
"Ah, but you'd be burgling from a dragon."  
"Dear me. A dragon, well. That sounds awfully dangerous" He was trying to sound frightened, but he didn't think he convinced either of them.  
"You want to go on this quest, don't you?"  
"I've wanted to go on a quest since I was a fauntling looking for elves in the Westfarthing woods, Gandalf. If you'd waited much longer, I might have become a proper Baggins, and you'd have to drag me out the door by my pointy ears." The wizard gave a good hearty chuckle at that. The dwarf just glared at the mention of elves.

"Oh, lighten up, you sour-puss. People are trying to kill you, and you're asking me to steal from a dragon - and well, there's only one dragon that could be, since you were so curious about what I knew of the Lonely Mountain... of Erebor. Okay, I was going to say it's not all doom and gloom, but I suppose it is. Oh dear. I don't think I'm looking forward to meeting Smaug."

"You will come, then?" The dwarf king asked, concern and suspicion and awe warring in his expression. Bilbo nodded.  
"Aye, I think I will. If you want, you can spend the night in one of my guest rooms - not likely anyone would follow us to the Shire, and before they did, the Rangers would deal with them. Safer than here though... I really wouldn't want to lead anyone or... anything that might be following you to my home. I didn't think this through. I mean, you would probably be fine here, but I meant to - sorry. I let my train of thought get away from me there."  
"Do you often invite people whose names you do not know into your home for the night?" Thorin asked, a teasing edge to his voice. Bilbo rolled his eyes, he was too old for this nonsense.

"None. And I'll not be starting tonight. Now, Gandalf mentioned a Thrain, I remember that being the name of King Thror's son, was it not? Who d- ah, went missing... and you said something about a King's Jewel... I wonder - could you be his son, Thorin?" And he couldn't quite help his satisfied smirk at the shock on the dwarf king's face. He wasn't playing fair, but like hell he was going to be seen as useless this time around.


	2. Tidy Up Before Inviting Dwarves Into Your Home, Bilbo

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Beware of angst. I also took some liberties. which you'll see if you read the chapter, I won't spoil it for you, but it's to do with Bilbo's past (not his past life, but like the years before he went gallivanting off with 13 dwarves and a wizard

And so it was that Bilbo Baggins invited Thorin Oakenshield to stay the night at Bag End. He had very nearly invited Gandalf as well, in a moment of what could only be called insanity - but he was a Baggins, and a Baggins must be courteous, after all - though thankfully the wizard politely declined. Gandalf had left the inn, no doubt off to see about making sure they weren't followed, that or some wizarding business of his.

 

Bilbo and Thorin made quite good time, and considering it was dark and miserable, it was a wonder they didn't bump into any unsavoury characters. They were in Bag End, warm and dry, soon enough. It was a relief to feel the warm air after the bitter chill of the wind and rain they'd walked through.

"Here we are then. I know it's not much, but it's home."

"I did not know halflings liked being underground." Thorin muttered, and Bilbo rolled his eyes.

"I'd wager there's a fair bit you don't know about _hobbits_ , Master Dwarf. We have our own name to call ourselves, thank you. Don't need the one made by _men_ who think of us as little more than the dirt on their shoes. Nasty things, shoes. Imagine if I went calling you the _elvish_ word for dwarf - I don't imagine you'd like that all too much, would you?" He grumbled, and Thorin almost looked angry, before sighing.

"I did not mean to cause offence. I humbly ask your forgiveness."

"I did not take you for a humble sort." Bilbo quipped with half a smile tugging at his lips, which Thorin returned.

"But I am humbled indeed, by your generosity." Bilbo made a noncommittal noise, and took off his cloak, hanging it up on the rack by the door, before placing his weapons in what used to be his mother's glory box. Thorin was eyeing him warily again.

"They were actually why I went to Bree in the first place. I just _might_ have been planning an adventure of my own. So you see, I wasn't being entirely unselfish when I ah... accepted the proposal." He noticed the way Thorin relaxed at his small confession and rolled his eyes. Typical mistrusting dwarves.

"I must admit, it relieves me to hear that. I did not know quite what to think of you. You surprised even Gandalf."

"Ah, I imagine I'll regret that. I'll be getting suspicious looks off him constantly" The hobbit complained, much to Thorin's amusement. Bilbo looked again at the knife in his hand. Such a little thing, and he'd had to have them specially made, and they'd break eventually, but for now they were serviceable enough. He'd have to practice a little to adjust his aim to the weight, but he'd get there eventually. _Maybe Fili could teach me_ , he thought absently as he put it away with a sigh.

"Not as good as you'd hoped?" Thorin asked, reaching out to take the next knife. Bilbo handed him it without thinking, knowing he would want to examine the craftsmanship. Bilbo watched as he turned it over in his palm, delicately, and frowned in concentration. He held it up to the light for a bit, and then handed it back to its rightful owner.

 

"It's decently enough made, for the work of Men. Though I think perhaps you had it tailored specially for your size?" Bilbo nodded, taking it back gratefully and depositing it into his box.

"Took a bit of doing, too. Blasted moron wouldn't take me seriously, so I pestered him for a week. Said I might as well pay him as I was driving all his other business away" He grinned to himself. That had been a rather fun way to waste his time whilst he waited to find dwarves at his door. Thorin shook his head and crossed his arms.

"I do not quite know what to make of you, Master Baggins. Every time I think I understand you, you say something to throw me off."

 

"Oh, it's all part of the fun, being mysterious." He answered, but there was no humour in his voice, and he started to think about the one person who had thoroughly understood him. Someone he had not thought about in decades, someone he had pushed to the very depths of his mind. Someone whose room had been just down the hallway. He didn't even realized his mind had drifted off until he felt a strong hand grip his shoulder and shake him lightly. When he came back to himself, Thorin was staring at him, his eyes awash with a mixture of curiosity and concern.

 

"Master Baggins, are you quite well?" The deep voice rumbled.

"I...well no. I just. Memories, I suppose. I stay here, but it's like living with ghosts." He sighed and shook his head. "But never mind that, Master Oakenshield. Would you like a cup of tea? Perhaps a little brandy? I'm afraid that's the strongest I've got-"

"That will do fine, Master Baggins. Just tea is perfectly acceptable." Bilbo nodded and made his way to the kitchen.

 

"Feel free to sit," He told the dwarf, gesturing to the table, which he still had maps and books laid out on. "I'm afraid it's a bit of a jumble, but I'll get it cleaned up in a moment." Thorin did as he bade and took the chance to investigate whatever adventure the hobbit had been planning. He still meant to ask what exactly Bilbo had meant when he said he was living with ghosts, but he suspected it would not be a very well recieved subject of conversation, from the way he deflected when Thorin had first asked. There were many maps of different locations, and to his distaste, he could see that the books were about elves - or at least most of them. But one was open at a page where the name _Thranduil_ was underlined. It was written in Sindarin, but he still growled when he saw the name of his hated enemy.

 

"What's got you so worked up?" Bilbo asked mildly, glancing over at the book and smiling, shaking his head. "Ah, that is an account of the Battle of Dagorlad. A very rare edition. It err... details the death of Oropher."

 

"Is that supposed to mean anything to me?"

 

"It was the name of Thranduil's father. He became king in the middle of a war. Talk about being thrown in at the deep end. He was quite young, by elf standards, I believe. There's not an awful lot more I've been able to find out about him, or the Greenwood - Mirkwood they call it now. Secretive fellow, I think. Now, the elves of Imladris are another matter entirely. Hospitable to a fault. Lord Elrond pleaded with Isildur to throw the Ring into the fire" Even talking about _it_ sent a shudder down his spine. "But he underestimated the greed of Men, and so the king kept it, and then it was lost, probably only waiting to be found by the next foul creature as lays eyes upon it." He conceded, sighing. He hoped Thorin did not hate him too much for his talking about elves so much. But Thorin had stopped paying attention to him. He had found a map of the Lonely Mountain and surrounding lands. But that was not the detail which had captured the King's attention.

"There is a child's drawing of a dragon on this." He said, lifting it up and pointing so that Bilbo could see. And when Bilbo looked, he couldn't help the flash of memory that came with it. He sat in his own chair with a heavy thunk, breaths short and raspy. He thought he'd grown out of the panic attacks by now.

"That - I... my brother drew that." Thorin suddenly dropped the map and was at Bilbo's side in less than a heartbeat.

 

"Master Baggins, I am sorry - please, just try to breathe slowly. That's it, in and out. Keep doing that. Just listen to my voice and _calm down_." Bilbo found it surprisingly easy to follow the orders of his king, so he did so. Thorin kept his eyes on the hobbit's own, and soon they were breathing in time.

 

"Th..thank you. I didn't realise that was... it must have been in with mother's things. I remember the day he drew that. He'd just turned nine. He'd asked ma for a story about dragons. He was rather enamoured with the idea of going to slay one." He allowed himself a little rueful half smile, "I yelled at him for defacing ma's maps. I-" He was about to wallow in his self-hate, but Thorin put a finger over his lips and shook his head.

 

"Master Baggins. That's enough now. I'll get you a cup of that tea. I do believe you need something to steady you."

"I just... I wasn't expecting it." He explained lamely, but Thorin nodded, a sad smile of his own surfacing.

"Believe me when I say _I understand_ , Bilbo." He assured, placing the mug down gently in front of the hobbit, who reached out gratefully to take it, smiling when he noticed the little kick it had.

"Found the brandy, then?" He asked, before taking another sip. It did settle him wonderfully. But Thorin was still looking at him - halfway resigned, halfway questioning. Bilbo shook his head, wondering whether or not he could do this.

"You do not have to tell me if you do not wish." Thorin soothed him.

"But you want to know, Master Oakenshield, and therefore I shall tell you. It's probably about time I talked about it to someone. My... my brother's death. I can talk about my father's and my mother's, but somehow, when it comes to Will..." He trailed off, looking for the right words. "I suppose it's hard because it was _me_ who failed him. I should have been there, and I would have, if only there had been someone else - it was just the two of us by then, you see. It was the Fell Winter, and there was little food, and the rivers were frozen over, and I had to get firewood, or we would freeze. Da had frozen to death doing the same thing. Ma had been bitten by a White Wolf. It wasn't like we could get to a healer without them smelling her blood and putting everyone else in danger. And she said she couldn't come back with us either, so she just took off into the woods and told us to run, to not look back. But that was only very near the beginning. Before the wargs, and before the orcs that rode them." He could still see their foul glee, and he could still see blood on snow, red on white. But the memories are mixed now, with those of clashing swords and putting himself between his king and his worst enemy. If he could face that, then he could face this memory.

 

"I had barely made it to the edge of the woods when I heard them for the first time. Those bloodcurdling howls were awful to hear. But worse was the frightened cry that sounded so familiar - he had nightmares sometimes, after ma left. It sounded like that, but so much worse. I dropped all the wood I was carrying and I ran, faster than I'd ever run before. And when I got to our door, there was a warg dragging him by the leg out into the street. There were orcs inside the house, but all I could see was my little brother and blood, so much blood." Thorin put a steadying hand on his arm, and Bilbo nodded, grateful, noticing the sheen of tears in the dwarf's eyes as well. "I had the axe I was using to chop the wood, and whilst it wasn't all that much use, it startled it enough for me to pick up Will and run. I ran so far and so fast, but I stopped when I couldn't hear them anymore. I tried... I tried to bandage his leg. But he was so pale already. I knew I was losing him. And he just smiled up at me and asked for... for one last lullaby."

"Oh dear Mahal in his Halls, just how young were the pair of you?" Thorin asked, his own voice thick with emotion. Bilbo smiled through the tears that streamed down his face freely.

" Hobbits are considered adults at 33 years of age. I was twenty. Will was twelve." There was a choked gasp of disbelief, before strong arms wrapped him close to a broad, warm chest. "Thorin, I-"

"Hush, little Bilbo Baggins. You were naught but a child yourself. There was nothing you could have done."

"He was my little brother. If anyone should have- it should have been _me_. _He was mine to protect and I failed him_!" Bilbo all but shouted - or he had meant it to be a shout, but it came out as a broken sob, which made Thorin hold him even closer, until he was practically crushing Bilbo.

"I know, oh how well do I know that, little one. For my brother Frerin, fell at Azanulbizar. I will never forgive myself for his loss."

 

He held Bilbo as the little hobbit sobbed, and the rain did not let up. Eventually, Bilbo managed to escape the embrace and tidy away the maps, and sort out a bed for the dwarf, and both were quiet, except for a song which Bilbo sang softly:

_Lay down your head and I'll sing you a lullaby_ __  
Back to the years of loo-li lai-lay  
_And I'll sing you to sleep and I'll sing you tomorrow_ __  
Bless you with love for the road that you go...

It broke the heart of the King of carven stone to hear such sadness in his host, but he knew of no remedy - for he had never even found one for himself, not truly.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I gave Bilbo a brother, and then took him away. As well as killing off Bungo and Belladonna in the Fell Winter. I'm evil. It's a gift.
> 
> The words for the lullaby are from this song:  
> http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=m2xnPSRSSzU 
> 
> I cannot wait till Fili and Kili get to appear, though it might be a couple chapters away. But I just need them to lighten the mood, and also make Bilbo sadder. so complicated. and the wizard will be fun :D


	3. Bag End Is Now A Bed & Breakfast For Dwarves, Apparently

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> So this ended up half domestic half serious. And I couldn't resist a comment about Thorin's lack of a sense of direction.

Bilbo found that he could not sleep that night. Not in this room, not with those memories so freshly dug up and aired. He half expected Will to come in crying about wolves and orcs, and to have to tell stories of springtime and flowers to calm him down. Goodness, he'd all but erased these memories the first go round - but wasn't that what the entirety of the Shire had done, in the aftermath of the Fell Winter? They had buried what dead they could and then went on as if everything could be normal again. And for so many now, it was. And before, the first time, it had been for Bilbo as well. He had just been alone, not _haunted_. He had buried the memory of his brother's existence because he could not bear his own shame. He rolled over and closed his eyes again, but all he saw was blood, and wolves and orcs - and then the elves and the dwarves and the men that fought them. _Dear me, I am rather a mess, I should think_ , Bilbo mused wryly to himself. He tried once more to sleep but eventually abandoned the idea, shaking off his blankets and getting up.

 

He walked silently down the hallway, stopping at Thorin's door. He stared at it and frowned for a moment, wondering just what bothered him about it when he realised - oh. He'd given him Will's old room without even realising it. _Still,_ thought Bilbo _, there's nothing to be done about it now._ So he positioned himself just to the side of the door and he sat down. If he wasn't going to sleep then he might as well do something that made him feel slightly less useless. Even if there was no danger, even though he knew he was safe, he stood guard outside of Thorin's door.

 

Thorin, for his part, slept rather well. He had not spent the night in such a comfortable bed for a very long time, and he took advantage of the opportunity, kicking off his boots and settling down for the night. He dreamt, but no terrors followed into his mind - only happy memories, of his brother and sister and himself before everything. Before the dragon. When he woke up his eyes watered with tears, but he did not mind all that much. And he was grateful now, more than ever, that he had had Frerin beside him as long as he had. To lose a sibling which was just a child - he could not begin to imagine the hobbit's pain. And yet he could see it etched in his face, clear as day. Coming with them would be good for Bilbo, he decided. It would get him out into the world and away from a place where he either wanted to forget, or to drown in the memories. Finally deciding to open his eyes, he stretched and sat up, his legs over the side of the bed. It was bright that morning, and when he looked out the window, he saw that the grass was dewy with the rain of the previous night. He once again marvelled at the generosity of hobbits - or this hobbit in particular. Perhaps he was an oddity. He probably was. Shaking his head, he pulled his boots on and straightened himself out, before opening his door. And finding Bilbo sat outside, leaning slightly to the left, eyes closed and dark circles under his eyes. At Thorin's movement he stirred, looking up blearily.

"Master Baggins, have you been there all night?" He asked softly, in amazement. Bilbo nodded, turning away and refusing to meet his eyes.

 

"I couldn't sleep and I... I didn't really want to be alone, but I didn't want to disturb you, so-"

"Peace, Bilbo, you need not explain yourself. I imagine after last night, you perhaps did not _want_ to sleep." Bilbo nodded, making to stand up. Thorin gripped him by the elbow and pulled him the rest of the way until he was standing. He said no more about it, but was touched by the fact that he had been watched over in his sleep - perhaps that was why he had felt so easy, when he was usually so tense in unfamiliar places.

"Would you like to help me make some breakfast? I imagine you'll want to eat before you go and tell your people what you're planning. Or whatever it is you're going to do, other than send me to steal from a dragon." He added with a lopsided grin. The dwarf rolled his eyes.

"I would be only happy to help. If there's anything you would like me to pay for my stay here-"

"WHAT? No, no. You really don't know the first thing about hobbits, do you? I know that you're used to people expecting something of you but _really_. Insulting the hospitality of a hobbit by offering to _pay_ them. That's simply... well, be glad that it's me here, and not any other hobbit, or you'd be out on your arse faster than you could blink." He shook his head, huffing in indignation. "If there is one thing hobbits pride themselves in, other than gardening, it is being a good host. Honestly. Asking to _pay_ me. What is the world coming to?" He shook his head and went digging in the pantry - well, one of his pantries, for he was a hobbit, and as we all know, hobbits are fond of a good meal, or seven, each day. Thorin was looking ridiculously flustered, but Bilbo had not even given him time to apologize, but he could hear the hobbit's irate murmurs of "honestly, can it be he's always this rude, or do I just get special treatment?"

 

Thorin watched after him, mouth agape, his mind boggling at the idea someone could be offended for being offered payment for _food and board_. Just what manner of creatures were these halfli- hobbits, _hobbits_ , he mentally corrected himself. Still, he seemed to be able to do nothing _but_ insult him, however unintentionally. And yet somehow he had not been cast back out into the cold - in fact, Bilbo almost seemed to take his insults in stride, as if he were expecting them. Thorin frowned. Perhaps it was just that he had a thicker skin than most of his kin - his story had certainly proved that. A peaceful folk they may have been, but hobbits seemed - or at least, _Bilbo_ seemed resiliant. They had, after all, come back from being nearly decimated by wolves and orcs. He shook his head, which was beginning to ache from pondering the contradictions of this strange and private race.

 

The hobbit returned, not saying anything, but handing some food to Thorin to cook, whilst he rummaged about in the cupboards for bits and pieces. They made breakfast in silence, and Thorin was convinced that Bilbo was deliberately ignoring him, until he heard him whisper two words in a voice so quiet he could hardly make it out:

 

"Thank you".

 

 That surprised Thorin more than anything - why would he... Frowning again, Thorin heaped their breakfast onto the plates - _there's so much food here, and given so freely_ \- he thought in wonder. If they had found such a place as this earlier, perhaps they could have set up trade - though what use these Shirefolk might have of anything dwarves could offer was beyond him at the present moment. But he'd let his thoughts get away from him - if anything, _he_ should be thanking Bilbo.

 

"What on Arda are you thanking me for?" He asked, incredulous, whilst the hobbit still faced away from him, "It seems all I've done since I've got here is stumble across painful memories and offer you insult - for which I apologize, as it was the farthest thing from my intention. I have imposed upon your hospitality. I should be the one thanking you." The hobbit did not respond for a long moment, and Thorin could almost swear he heard muffled sniffling, but then he turned around to face the dwarf, smiling kindly.

"I am glad of the company. Truly." His voice sounded small and far away, and he stared off as if there was something in the distance. "It has been... a long time since I've felt like I've been any use to anyone, to be honest with you." He went and set the plates down and then sat, gesturing for Thorin to do the same. They ate in relative silence, each too deeply entrenched in their own thoughts to say anything. Eventually, they finished, and Thorin watched his host clean away the plates and put them away with a thoughtful gaze.

"If you wish, I will write to you, when I return to my kin in the Blue Mountains. There will be much to prepare for, so I will not return here for some time - but might this be the place where the members of our quest will meet? Those I would trust are not many, and they will come from different directions."

"And yet you trust me." Bilbo pointed out, though he was smiling. Something Thorin was glad to see. Though the hobbit had touched upon something that the king himself had been wondering about. Why indeed did he trust this stranger? Before he could answer, Bilbo started speaking again. "Are you sure it would be prudent to write to me? I mean, there might be some, even amongst your kin who would deem the quest foolhardy and stop you from going. If you wrote to me of your plans... no. It would be better just to have Gandalf let me know."

 

"You trust the wizard?"

 

"I trust his intentions. Sometimes, though, the adventures he urges people on... well, they don't always end happily ever after, shall we say." Bilbo informed him, thinking of the events of the first time around. Thorin hummed noncommittally.

 

"Still, I agree with you about the letter, now that I think of it. You are wise, Master Baggins. I feel you will find my advisor Balin a steadfast friend when you meet him. I am sure he, at least, will come." Bilbo almost smirked. With a trusting Thorin, he and Balin could far more easily reason with the stubborn idiot. _Tag-teaming him would be so much fun_ , he thought, suppressing a grin. As it was, he could not help a small smile.

 

"Then I cannot meet him, or your other fellows, soon enough." He paused. "Forgive me, this might be an impertinent question, but other than Frerin... do you have any family?" Thorin offered him a half-smile.

 

"Nay, Master Baggins, it is a question I believe you have a right to ask, after last night, when you shared so much of your own story with me" _Ha, the surface has barely been scratched, on that front, my King,_ thought Bilbo. "The family I have that still live are my sister Dis, and her sons, Fili and Kili."

 

"Nephews? What's that like?" Oh no. He'd meant to ask what _they_ were like. Not what it was like having nephews. Because for all that Frodo had _called_ him Uncle, he was still really a cousin. And he hadn't raised the boy, not really. He had been dear to him, yes, but sometimes, for whatever reason, he could see _Thorin_ in those bright eyes and that dark hair. As it was, the dwarf cast his eyes to the floor for a moment, and looked sad. "Oh no, it's alright. Really. I'm fine. Truly. I got all my tears out already. Tell me what Fili and Kili are like? How old are they? Do they cause all sorts of mischief?" Thorin answered his questions and talked of his friends and family, and those he hoped would join him. He even spoke of his doubts that they would come. If the quest was wise - whether it was folly to follow the wizard's advice, what if-

 

"Thorin." Bilbo found himself saying rather firmly. "You listen here. You go to your people, you ask for their help. And whoever will join you will join you. You can ask for no more than their loyalty, honour and willing hearts. And from the sounds of it, your sister sons will join you no matter if you allow them or no." He placed his small hand lightly over the dwarf's own, before standing up to rummage for some parchment and ink.

 

"What are you doing?" Asked Thorin. Bilbo rolled his eyes as he dipped the quill into his ink.

"I am drawing you a nice, clear map, from Bree to Hobbiton. I'm sure Gandalf might have given you one, but the Big Folk aren't as familiar with the ways and paths of Hobbits. We know the Shire like elves know their woods, or like dwarves know mountains. We know our hills and our valleys. Now you should be able to find my house again, no bother. Here. " He handed it to Thorin once he'd finished.

 

"But why are you-"

 

"Well," He replied with a grin, "The others will need to get here somehow, won't they? And it is quite easy, indeed, for strangers to get lost in the Shire, if they do not know what they are looking for. Come on, I'll help you pack some extra food for your journey."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Don't really know what I'm going to do in the interlude between Thorin leaving and everyone appearing for dinner. Thinking of maybe some Durin family feels time for Thorin's part, and maybe lots of Bilbo avoiding Gandalf. or something. Or maybe getting a will in order and everything. Just so Lobelia can't snatch Bag End. He'll probably leave it to Drogo and Prim.
> 
> Don't know why I had such a hard time with this chapter. I was stuck for a while with it halfway done.  
> I just want to hurry up and get this written so we can get to Rivendell and Bilbo can yell at some elves. (and perhaps an evil wizard. who knows. at any rate, he's going to be buddies with Galadriel and Glorfindel.)


	4. The Immutable Law Of Gandalf Being Too Tall For Hobbit Holes

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This chapter was a bit more meaningful than I'd originally thought it would be, but it's still pretty much just filler to move the plot forward a little. Next chapter will probably be dwarves galore. Ugh. it is going to be a nightmare to write the Bag End Scene.
> 
> OMG and i just had a thought, what if there's a scene at the end of There and Back Again at Bag End and the colours are all muted and it's just so lonely. it'll be like in Sherlock. was all bright and full of life, and then just martin freeman /alone/ and /sad/  
> Oh dear I upset myself.

To say Bilbo was conflicted would be a complete understatement. That was not how he'd imagined his second first meeting with Thorin happening. Why did he and Gandalf have to be in Bree? _At least_ , he supposed, _there will be no_ **So This Is The Hobbit** _nonsense. And if he says he got lost I'll-_ he shook his head. Whatever would happen, would happen, and he was just going to let it play out however it may.

 

As it happened, though, he had an adventure to prepare for - and part of that meant preparing for the possibility of not coming back. He had last time - but now, when everything could - _would_ \- turn out differently, he definitely did not want the whole mess with Lobelia and Otho Sackville-Baggins swooping in to steal his home. No. If it was going to anyone, it would be Drogo and Primula. They were his dear cousins, and parents to his Frodo. If anyone deserved to have happiness all their life, it was that boy.

 

So Bilbo sat down in his study and got out a long scroll of parchment and dipped his quill into the inkwell. It was an action very familiar to him, though he was more accustomed to it being for his book and his poems and songs than for any sort of legal document. For all that he had been a very respectable Baggins before, he had never been very organized on that count, seeing as he'd avoided all thoughts of death - perhaps unwisely, considering the fate of his own family. Now he did not have the excuse of being taken by surprise. He _knew_ the dwarves would come, and he knew how dangerous their journey would be, and had no doubt that he would be stepping between them and danger at every opportunity. Scratching his chin with his free hand, he thought about what to write. A letter to the Thain seemed appropriate.

 

_Dear Gerontius Took, Thain of the Shire, and my dear grandfather,_

_I have decided to go on an adventure. It has been a long time in coming, and I feel it will do me good. However, it is not quite the run of the mill adventure that my mother would go on. No. This is a quest, to help a people reclaim a homeland long lost. Gandalf has enlisted my assistance in the aid of a band of dwarves who wish to save their mountain from a dragon. There will be many perils which we will face, even on the journey there, and so I am not certain if I shall ever return. I know it shall upset you to see me go, and it will grieve me to leave you, but you and I both know that there is not truly a place for me in the Shire anymore. It has long since ceased to be home. I dream of mountains and forests and the cool green sea. I will go East with ~~my~~ these dwarves, and give them what little help I can. Maybe they'll even tell stories about me, just like old Bullroarer, eh? At any rate, I believe Gandalf means to pass through Rivendell on our way, and I should very much like to meet ~~Lord Elrond~~ the elves that so often I sought in the woods._

_In case you seek to stop me - and I do hope you won't, for it would be a fool's errand - these dwarves have lost much. Their home, their families. They have sought work in places far below their station because they are looked down upon and called greedy. Greedy! When their children are starving! I had one of them as my guest this last night and he expected to have to PAY me for dinner, the poor fool. Can you imagine? Making guests pay for dinner? As if the house was some sort of inn. The very idea! Oh, don't you mind, he was very polite, but a backwards sort of fellow. And I had to give him a map so he could find his way back to Bag End with his companions. No sense of direction above ground, dwarves. But I find myself moved by their plight. They have wandered for so long, but could not find a true home in the West. Their eyes long for the Lonely Mountain, grandfather, as deeply as a heartsick elf would gaze out to sea. I must help them, or perish in the attempt. Do not weep, though, I shall be glad to finally see the world beyond my books - even if it does mean facing a dragon._

_Yours affectionately,_

_Bilbo Baggins, of Bag End_

_P.S. I have attached to this my Will, if only to make sure that Lobelia keeps her sticky paws off my silverware, minx that she is._

_P.P.S. Try not to worry too much, dear old fellow. I'm half a Took, with the good sense of a Baggins. I'll be alright. This is just in case._

Lifting the quill from the parchment, he sighed. He hadn't said nearly all that he had wanted to, but he couldn't really, could he? And it was more warning than he'd given the first go around. But now he had actually to write his will.

 

It was difficult, but in the end, he ended up leaving most of it to Primula and Drogo, and "any children they might decide to have", whilst making some provision for Hamfast. After all, Sam and Frodo still had to end up best friends. He left a little token to the parents of Merry and Pippin as well. Oh, how dearly he had loved those mischief makers when they were children, those bright smiles and the way they always spoke in sync. It was always "merry and pippin" never one without the other, and it had always reminded him of two very dear dwarflings. He had wondered at one point if it was them reincarnated, but no, he didn't quite think so. For one thing, Pippin had never been any good with a bow. He briefly wondered if he'd ever get a chance to tell them his stories this time around?

 

He shoved his melancholy thoughts aside. They would not do him any good. He decided he would go and visit his grandfather himself to give him the letter. It had been quite a while since he had seen the Old Took, and even longer since he had spoken to him. Not through malice, but simple negligence on both parts. Gerontius had many, many relatives, and keeping up with them all was simply impossible. So Bilbo decided to set out for Tookborough with letter in hand.

 

He hadn't quite expected to see Gandalf just as he was opening the door to go out.

"My dear fellow! Where are you off to?" The old wizard asked, leaning against his staff as if he really was just an old man with a bad back. Bilbo closed the door behind him before answering.

"To visit my grandfather, Gandalf. Would you very much mind accompanying me? I do suppose I'll need an extra witness for my will." The wizard frowned at him before nodding thoughtfully.

"I suppose this is all very sensible of you" He conceded, though he looked worried.

"Well, I can't very well come back to find them auctioning off my silverware. Imagine if _Lobelia_ got Bag End" He shuddered at the memory of it, and Gandalf chuckled at him.

"Perish the thought, my dear Bilbo. And it has been a long while since I have seen Gerontius. I am not sure he shall be glad to see me."

"He should not blame you. You did what you could. Shadows grow in all corners of the world, and a wizard's work is never done, nor is it ever easy." He patted his friend on the back and smiled sadly. Gandalf looked quite touched by his words. Bilbo continued, "And if he does, grandfather or no, I will punch him." At that, the wizard let out a startled laugh.

 

"You are certainly not the hobbit I expected, Master Baggins." The wizard mused as they walked through the peaceful, grass covered hills of Hobbiton. They got a few strange looks, but folks otherwise left them to their own business.

 

"Indeed not, Gandalf. But... Thorin and his people have lost their home, and... and I will help them take it back if it is within my power to do so. Add to that, dragons are not familiar with the scent of hobbits. I doubt Smaug has ever been this far West, even in his youth. I pray that he never gets the chance to. Orcs were bad enough... but a dragon. Still, I'm letting my imagination get away with me. Was there a reason you came to my door today?"

"What? Ah, yes, there was. I meant to ask you something. Can I trust you with a very important fear of mine?"

"I am only a hobbit, Gandalf." Bilbo protested, "but if you wish to impart it to me, I shall never break your confidence. I am a Baggins, after all." The wizard nodded.

 

"There is someone who I once counted a very dear friend. I fear that he ... that something has changed." The worried frown that the wizard wore made Bilbo wary.

"Is this friend another wizard?" Startled, Gandalf could do nothing but nod.

"Well... keep up the appearance of friendship, even if it seems his actions are... less _wise_ than you are accustomed to - do not let him see your suspicions. Power corrupts, and great power even more so - be wary. That is why hobbits are a peaceful folk. We do not seek, nor need power."

"You are wise beyond your years, Bilbo, and your council is most appreciate it. And somehow, I believe you know exactly whom I refer to." _Wise beyond my years? No Gandalf, I earned my wisdom_ through _my years._

 

"Come along, then, we're nearly at Tookborough. Grandfather won't be happy, but he won't stop me, either."

They stopped by the door of his smial and knocked. It took the Old Took a good long while to answer, but when he saw Bilbo he embraced him.

"Ah, it is good to see you, my boy. How have you been keeping? The last few months I've been hearing some rather odd things about you. What does a hobbit need knives and swords for?"

"To defend oneself. Naturally. That is what weapons are for, you know-"

"WIZARD HOW DARE YOU SHOW YOUR FACE HERE. IT'S YOUR FAU-" Bilbo slapped his grandfather and growled.

"ENOUGH. You really blame yourself, but Gandalf is a convenient scapegoat. Yes, he arrived late, but he actually came. He has more of Middle-Earth to watch over than just the _Shire_ , so if I hear one more word against him out of your mouth, I'll have a few more worse for you." Bilbo did not yell, except that first word. His voice was dangerously quiet, and the Old Took stepped back, wary of his grandson.

"Look, the only reason I came here was to give you this. And since Gandalf appeared as well, I would like you both to sign my will as witnesses as I am going on an adventure and do not know if I will return. So I'd really rather have everything in order before I go."

"But Bilbo... you can't... you-"

"I _must._ " Bilbo countered, holding the old hobbit's gaze. Gerontius looked away first, sighing sadly.

"I've seen that look before, on your mother." He shook his head. "Alright, alright. There'll be no stopping you, and you're a grown hobbit, capable of his own decisions, even if they're damn fool ones." Bilbo beamed at him and grasped him in a firm, but gentle embrace, even touching his forehead gently with his own. Gandalf looked on, quietly amused.

"That's quite the dwarfish gesture, Bilbo, my lad. I think you'll fit right in with them."

"Yes, well, not if they start dancing on my table."

 

The Old Took led them into his study and both he and Gandalf witnessed Bilbo's will, after reading through to making sure it was all in order, and they left his grandfather to read the letter in peace, then made their way up to Bag End, where Bilbo invited Gandalf to come and have a little afternoon tea.

"Watch that chand-" But Gandalf had already hit his head off of it, and Bilbo smiled a little secret smile, because no matter what universe he was in, and no matter how many times he might have to relive everything (and by Eru he hoped it was only the once) there were some irrefutable things that would always stay the same.


	5. A Party That Bilbo Is Actually Expecting, And Has Been For A While

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dwarves arrive at Bag End.  
> Bilbo is not letting /anyone/ wipe their feet on Belladonna's glory box

By the time Gandalf came to tell him that the dwarves were on their way, Bilbo was ridiculously over-prepared - and also dreading every moment because here it was, _really, truly_ happening all over again. This was the night that he'd heard their song and their woes and decided that maybe there was a bit of Took in him after all. Of course, he'd already decided to go, but the only one who really knew that was Thorin. And the only one who knew near enough everything about the quest, was Bilbo.

 

What he really needed was a good pipe and some Old Toby to settle his nerves. So he sat on his bench in his garden outside his hobbit hole and he smoked his pipe, relaxing and closing his eyes for but a moment, only to find a wizard bending over him when he opened them again.

 

"Ah, morning, Gandalf."

"You do not seem surprised."

"No, I'm not." The wizard frowned at this for a while before shaking his head and chuckling.

"You know, I thought you'd be more like your father."

"Oh?" Bilbo asked. He wondered what had made the old man think such a thing, when last time he had clearly wanted him to be a Took, so here he was. "Well, the world is not here in my books, and my home is not here. It took me a long time to realise that. But I did. Thorin and I talked that night, and I told him things I'd never admitted to anyone before, and it was such a relief. And I realised that I could be of use to _someone_ , help someone keep what remains of their family safe, and give them the home they deserve, even if the home which I had is forever lost to me." He paused, looking up at the wizard again. "I have been so very lonely, Gandalf. And I think this adventure will do me good. I've fussed over doilies and my mother's Westfarthing pottery for far too long, I think."

 

The wizard regarded him with a long moment, before nodding. Good. Bilbo hoped his curiosity would be satisfied for a while now. If his dearest friend was this suspicious of him, well then, Mahal help him. _Oh dear. That must be the influence of dwarves again._ But Gandalf had stopped his scrutiny, and that would have to do for now.

 

"Did you have news, then, you old goat, or did you just want to set off your whizzpoppers for the fauntlings. I had myself a sword back then, too, you know. I bested a wizard with it, if I recall correctly." He gave Gandalf a wry smile, which the wizard managed to return.

 

"I did. Thorin and his company will be arriving tonight."

 

"Ah, excellent. How many?"

 

"Thirteen. But Thorin goes to the Iron Hills to ask of them their aid." Bilbo watched the wizard - he always did have a habit of hiding much of what he thought. But it was clear enough to Bilbo from the tone of voice.

"They won't come." Then, because he sounded entirely too sure of that, he added "Will they? I mean, it's _Thorin's_ kingdom which is a nest for a dragon, not Dain's. He's probably not going to risk men on a fool's venture egged on by a meddling wizard, is he?"

"Meddling wizard? Why, Bilbo, surely you don't mean Gandalf?"

"Gandalf means you. Whatever other name you give yourself, I suspect you shall be forever labelled in the Shire as a Disturber of the Peace. Hobbits will hide away whenever you pass through the Shire and if I come back, they'll whisper about "Mad Baggins" and no one will listen to my stories but fauntlings who simply don't know any better."

"Well, Mad Baggins, I shall wear such an esteemed title with pride, as I hope you will yours." Bilbo's eyes darkened and he looked away before the wizard could see.

"There is nothing in madness to be proud of, Gandalf." He muttered under his breath. Out loud, he made a noncommittal grunt There was a long pause which he ended by clearing his throat. "Well, what time is everyone arriving, then?" He asked.

 

"Oh, just in time for supper, I should think."

 

"Well, I suppose I shall see you soon. An adventure. Well. I'd better get started, no doubt there will be plenty enough times when food is lean, so I might as well give us all a feast as a send off." Gandalf smiled, like he thought that was an excellent idea. "Well, I suppose you'd better be off, tell the others and all. Leave a mark on the door so that they know where it is, won't you? "Burglar for hire" or something like that. I'm sure it'll give Thorin a laugh."

 

Gandalf took his leave, and Bilbo could breathe at last. He took a moment to close his eyes and prepare himself before letting out a deep breath and grinning. He had a dinner to prepare, and it was going to be worthy of Erebor.

 

He found himself singing quite cheerily to himself as he prepared the meal, a song he'd all but forgotten in his old age - and didn't it seem strange to be thinking that now, with him young and fit as a fiddle?

 _Downsides went up, hey,_  
Outsides went wide,  
As the fiddle played a twiddle,  
And the moon slept, till Sterrinday.

There were more words to it than that, but he couldn't quite recall them, he just hummed his tune merrily to the smell of food being baked and roasted and boiled. Oddly, it made him look back fondly on the trolls, and their arguments. About how to prepare dwarf. Bilbo shook his head. Honestly. But then he paused - that time was the first time Thorin had called him a traitor. Though it would not be the last. He took a deep breath - he seemed to need a lot of those, these days - and carried on, until he had a feast fit for - well, for kings. He smiled fondly.

"Alright then, I'll just dish this all up and wait for-" There was a knock at the door, and he almost dropped his frying pan on his foot in surprise. _Dear me,_ he thought _, it can't be that time already, can it?_ Hurriedly untying his apron and making sure he was at least halfway presentable, he opened the door.

 

And he was greeted by the large, balding dwarf with warhammers strapped to his back, and horrific looking knuckle-dusters adorning his hands. But instead of cowering, the hobbit just smiled warmly.

"Ah! So I have my first dwarf for the evening. Who might you be, my good fellow?" Of course, he knew fine well who Dwalin was, but he wasn't going to go explaining that to him, thank you very much. The dwarf stared at him for a good minute, and when Bilbo didn't look in the least intimidated by him, he chuckled good-naturedly.

"Aye, I think Thorin might have been right." He said, more to himself than Bilbo, before remembering his manners. "Dwalin, son of Fundin, at your service." He bowed slightly, and Bilbo replied in the customary

"Bilbo Baggins, son of Bungo Baggins, at yours and your family's. Now do come in - it's cold out and I should really get back to the kitchen before something burns." He made his way back, and the tall dwarf followed him.

"If you wouldn't mind, there are a few tables which need moved and some chairs - I'd have done it myself if I'd known sooner than this afternoon that you were all coming _tonight_. As it is, I've been a little busy with dinner." Dwalin just laughed and clapped him none too gently on the shoulder.

"Ach, it's no bother, lad. I'd be happy to make myself useful. That's some feast you're preparing there." And so he strode off to lift tables and chairs and whatnot that Bilbo really couldn't be bothered with. Bilbo had just finished plating up when there was another knock at the door.

"If you could put these on the table, Master Dwalin, while I answer that, I'd be most obliged." At the dwarf's nod, he scurried once more to the front door, and was so happy to see the kindly, white-bearded dwarf that he nearly forgot himself, but he just smiled brightly.

"And how may I help you, Master Dwarf?" He said, eyes bright as he greeted Balin.

"Balin, son of Fundin, at your service, laddie." He made a fancy bow, and Bilbo couldn't help but chuckle.

"Bilbo Baggins, at yours and your family's." He mimicked Balin's gesture, though not unkindly. "You've better manners than your brother, at any rate, Master Balin. Dwalin, if you'd kindly take your hand out of the cookie jar, and wait a little to have your _actual_ meal, I would be most obliged."

 

He was ignored though, for when Dwalin set eyes on his brother, he dropped the jar anyway and they greeted each other most enthusiastically, and quip about being wider and shorter and sharper. It brought warm tears to his eyes - what would Will have been like, had he grown into an adult? Would he have been a respectable Baggins, or would he have favoured the Took side of the family?

"-alright there, laddie?" Balin was looking at him with concern. Bilbo blinked.

"Oh, sorry. It's just, been on my feet all day, you know. Out to the market, been cooking all afternoon - not that I begrudge it, I-" The old dwarf chuckled in acceptance of his explanation, though his eyes looked sad. He wondered if Thorin had told him about Will? Probably. Thorin trusted Balin with everything, and he would have wanted to know about Bilbo before meeting him.

"It's alright, lad. Dwalin tells me you have quite the spread prepared for us." Bilbo smiled.

"Oh yes, I do. I don't really know how much dwarves eat, after all," a lie, "But if your lot are anything like hobbits, I thought that I had best be prepared." As Balin smiled and was about to answer, there was a double knock on his round door.

 

Bilbo felt a cold hand clench his heart, but he tried not to let it show on his face. Taking a deep breath that he hoped he could disguise as a sigh of exhaustion, he went to answer the door. The way they greeted them was the exact same.

" _Fili" said one, "and Kili" added the other, before they bowed in tandem. "At your service!" their braids bounced as they stood back up - well, Fili's braids, and Kili's wild tangle of hair._

The hobbit plastered a smile onto his face - the last time he'd seen these boys, they had been cold, laid with their swords on their breasts in the cold tombs under the mountain. But they were here and they were alive. They were okay. He'd keep them safe this time. He had to.

"Bilbo Baggins, at yours and your family's." He'd barely replied when they were pushing past him to greet the others. And that was all well and good, until Fili was dumping his weapons in his hands and Kili was about to wipe his filthy b-

"THERE IS A DOORMAT, KILI SON OF DIS AND YOU WILL USE IT. I'd thank you not to wipe your feet on my mother's glory box. And _you_ , Fili, can go put these in the second room to the left which you and your brother will be sharing tonight. I'll thank you not to treat me like a packhorse in my own home." Enjoying the expressions of shock on their faces, he continued, "there's some barrels of ale in the cellar, which is through that hall and down the steps to the right, Kili, if you'd be so kind as to fetch it while I get the rest of dinner prepared." He dumped the weapons back into Fili's hands and left both young Durins to do as he'd asked of them, turning to find an impressed Dwalin and a shocked Balin. He just shrugged.

 

"Being heirs to the line of Durin doesn't excuse them from being brats - someone has to tell them when they're out of line. And that will go double for their uncle." More stunned silence was interrupted by howling laughter from Dwalin, who was practically shaking.

"You know, laddie, the only other person who can rein those two in is their mother. I think we'll be glad to have you before the quest is over." He mused.

"I'm already glad to have him, brother." Bilbo's heart warmed at Dwalin's fast allegiance. This was a dwarf who'd been sorely wary of his abilities on the first go around. Still, he was a little embarrassed.

 

"Right then. I'll be getting on with desserts, then. You feel free to tuck in just now, there's no need to wait for the others, there will be plenty for everyone." He told them as Fili and Kili returned, like meek little lambs.

"Come now, lads, don't be so shy. I didn't mean to snap at you so, in fact it was terribly unhobbitlike-"

"Is archery unhobbitlike, too?" Kili asked, timidly curious.

"Not as much as swords and knives are, no. Sometimes, in... if the winter is harsh, we might need to hunt game." No point going into the details of the Fell Winter with the dwarflings, once was bad enough. But Kili's eyes brightened.

"You any good, then?"

"If you're trying to goad me into a contest involving an apple on anyone's head, then forget it. But I'm a decent enough shot. I take it you boys did a little rummaging?" He asked, but he couldn't find it in him to be angry. They had the decency to at least look sheepish about it. But Bilbo grinned.

 

"What else did you find that you want to ask about?" He enquired. Fili held up the pair of small throwing knives.

"Any good with these?" He asked. Bilbo rolled his eyes.

"Not had much occasion to practice yet. Just got them a week ago. Now stop interrogating me about my choice of weapon and go eat before it all goes-" There was a ring of the doorbell and he sighed.

"here they come." He muttered, though not in such a put out manner as one might think. He opened the door to dodge a pile of falling dwarves, Bofur proudly holding the broken bell. He rolled his eyes and looked to the wizard.

"And I'm sure you didn't think to make them line up in an orderly, sensible fashion, you old goat?" The wizard's laugh was a welcome sound, and he introduced himself to the dwarves as they picked themselves up one by one.

"Go through and get some dinner, there's plenty for all." They needed no more encouragement than that. They tore into the feast like the hungry travelling dwarrows that they were. Bilbo looked on fondly.

"Are you not hungry yourself, Master Baggins?" One of them asked. He looked up - ah, it was Dori.

"Oh. Do you know, I'd been so busy preparing for you all to come that I quite forgot about myself?"

"Well that won't do now, will it?" Dori tutted like the mother hen they all knew him to be, and he loaded a plate with meat and vegetables for the hobbit, whch Bilbo gratefully accepted.

"How'd you manage to forget that you needed to eat?" Kili asked between mouthfuls of pork. Bilbo sighed, shaking his head.

"It is the duty of a host to put his guests needs before his own. I suppose I just wanted to make sure you all ate before I did." They all stared at him with a kind of quiet awe, which, if he was being honest, made him feel awfully uncomfortable. "How about a song then?"

"Oh ho!" Exclaimed Nori with a wicked grin. "Our host wishes a song, well then. What would you hate, Master Baggins?" Bilbo's mouth nearly split, his grin was so wide.

"Oh, you know, it would be simply _awful_ if you blunted the knives." They all roared with laughter, and began to sing that song that he knew oh so well.

 

Once they'd finished, and cleared away the plates, just the way he'd remembered, there was a single knock at the door. It was heavy, and demanded to be answered. Gandalf whispered "He's here" and made to stand up, but Bilbo shoved him none to gently out of the way.

"This is _my_ smial, wizard, and as far as I'm concerned, that means I can greet my own guests." He told him huffily, and opened the door to reveal one Thorin Oakenshield.

"It is a pleasure to meet you again, Bilbo Baggins. Nice touch, with the mark on the door" He paused. "I'm ashamed to say, I would not have found this place without it."

Bilbo folded his arms and glared at the dwarf.

"I gave you a perfectly decent map, Thorin Oakenshield. If you can't follow _that_ , it'll be a wonder if we make it to Erebor at all."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this took me so long. Writer's Block. ugh. But now thorin's here and I can focus on him and Bilbo, yay.


	6. Never Underestimate The Nastiness of a Sackville-Baggins

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Wherein there is Lobelia and so Bilbo is not amused.

Thorin blinked in shock for a moment before shaking his head fondly at the hobbit in front of him, who seemed very put out.

 

"There was nothing wrong with your directions, Master Baggins. These hills simply all look the same in the dark." Bilbo glared at him and put his hand out.

 

"I'll take your coat, Master Thorin. And honestly - all the same? How should you like it if I told you all mountains look the same to me? Which if I'm honest, they do, but that's quite besides the point." He grumbled as he hung up the coat by the door. "Go on in and eat. There _should_ be enough left. Unless their stomachs are as bottomless as my cousin Lobelia's nastiness."

 

"Thank you, Bilbo," Thorin chuckled. "Quite an opinion of your relative there. Surely a hobbit couldn't be that bad?"

 

"Oh, she's wicked. If I didn't have everything sorted out I have no doubt by the time I got back she would have auctioned off my things and made herself at home in Bag End. She's been after it as long as I can remember." He shrugged. "Now stop being nosy and go eat, you big lout. I worked very hard on this meal, so I hope everyone appreciated it."

 

"Aye, Master Baggins" Dwalin assured him, once he'd gotten over the shock of how familiarly the hobbit was addressing Thorin, "meal fit for a king."

 

"Glad to hear it." Bilbo smiled and gave Thorin a gentle nudge towards the table. "Whatever news you have can wait until you're fed". The dwarf shook his head and chuckled.

 

"Dear me, are all you hobbits this fussy about food?"

 

"We are, actually, thanking you kindly, Master Oakenshield. I wager you should put that food in your mouth before you put your foot in it." He warned, and Thorin, remembering the last time he'd been in the smial, did as he was told. The meal warmed him down to his bones, and tasted divine, besides.

 

"I thank you most humbly for the meal. This much food must have been expensive, if you bought it especially-"

 

"Oh, nonsense. One cannot put a price on the smiles of guests. That is _all_ the payment I could possibly need, Thorin." He assured him, a smile of his own firmly in place. He could see the puzzled looks on the faces of the dwarves and sighed.

 

"Gold has no worth for hobbits - well, that is to say, we find more value in good food, comfort, and the company of friends than we do in any gems. What use would a hobbit have for such things, at any rate? I-" he suddenly heard stomping and a repetitive knock on the door. He groaned. " _That_ , I have no doubt, is my cousin Lobelia. Do get on with dinner and tell them whatever it is they need to know, Thorin. I'm sure you can catch me up once I've um... well, once she leaves."

 

Opening the smial door, he imediately had an umbrella pointed at his face. He sighed.

 

"Good evening, cousin. To what do I owe the dubious pleasure of your presence?" he asked politely, but Lobelia Sackville-Baggins was livid.

"What on the good green lady's earth do you mean by inviting _dwarves_ into your home? Surely they'll rob you! And an adventure! A Baggins, on an adventure?" She squeaked indignantly. Bilbo stood up straight and glared at her.

 

"I do believe, Missus Sackville-Baggins, that the last time I checked, this was _my_ smial, into which I can invite whomsoever I wish. And I am rather aware of the fact I am going on an adventure, thank you. I did not require a reminder."

 

"But leaving it to that Drogo boy, are you mad?" It took all of Bilbo's considerable self restraint to stop himself from slapping her hard across the face.

 

"And what claim," He began, his voice soft and dangerous, "what possible _right_ , do you think _you_ have to _my_ home?" But Lobelia paid no heed to his tone.

 

"Your poor father would be turning in his grave - a Baggins on an _adventure_. It's shameful, really."

 

"You forget that he married a _Took_ , Lobelia. He married my mother." He warned, but the hateful woman was on a roll now.

 

"Ah yes, that's the trouble with it - he married a _Took_ , nothing good can come from that." Her lip curled in a sneer.

 

"Don't, Lobelia-"

 

"Why, he might as well have been curse for doing such an unhobbitish thing. Your family's had nothing but bad luck since that day, isn't that right? Mummy and daddy died, and then you couldn't even-"

 

" _Leave._ " Bilbo's eyes were cold. "And if you ever disrespect the memory of my family again - unhobbitish or not, I _will_ kill you." She ran, terrified, down the lane, and he slammed the door behind her, sinking down whilst leaning against it.

 

"Bilbo?" Thorin approached him cautiously, but the hobbit waved him away.

 

"I... just give me a minute, would you?" He ran his hands through his hair desperately. "Oh Valar. I can't believe I did that. Why did I do that?"

 

"Because she disrespected your family - any dwarf would do that same thing, though they might not have left it at just threats." Balin tried to console him, but it didn't really help.

 

"Yes well - hobbits don't. We're not... well, not generally a violent lot. Though I expect old Gandalf here could tell you all about my great uncle Bullroarer Took. So tall he could ride a horse, or so they say. And by "they", I mean Gandalf. He knows lots of things that he doesn't let on about." He took a deep breath. Said wizard raised an eyebrow curiously.

 

"You're babbling, Burglar." Thorin told him softly. "And she prodded at things you would rather were left alone, yes?" He squeezed the hobbit's shoulder gently, and Bilbo nodded, grateful for the understanding.

 

"Yes - well, at any rate, can we just... forget that happened, for the moment?"

"What was she so furious about, anyway, Mr. Boggins?" Kili asked gently as his uncle helped Bilbo to his feet.

 

" _Baggins,_ Kili. It's Baggins. And just the fact that there's no way for her to steal my home and my mother's best china whilst I'm gone. Woman's a dragon in hobbit skin, I swear." He sighed, running a hand over his face. "I do suppose I should have expected that to happen. She has always been a poisonous little toad." He shook his head, and shook off with it the last of his anger. "Still. Could be worse."

 

"How, she's awful?"

 

"Yes, but she's not an _actual_ dragon, thank the Valar. Wouldn't want to have to deal with more than one in a lifetime." He ruffled Kili's hair fondly, and the boy pouted, which made Bilbo chuckle. "No, Kili, you cannot go and deal with her for me. I'm quite sure I just gave her the fright of her life, which, now that I think on it, I rather like the thought of."

 

"But she's evil, Bilbo." The hobbit chuckled at him fondly

 

"No, she's not, Kili. As awful as she is, I'm quite sure evil is not what she is. She's horrible, vindictive and manipulative, but she'd never actually physically hurt anyone. There's too much evil in the world already, without adding Lobelia Sackville-Baggins to the list." He ruffled Kili's hair again, but this time he just looked bemused. Gandalf, on the other hand, was frowning thoughtfully in the hobbit's direction, though as of yet, he just smoked on his pipe and said nothing.

"Well then, if all that drama is out of the way, what do - oh, is that a map?" Thorin nodded, and pointed out the mountain with the dragon in red painted on it. It looked too similar to the one Will had drawn, but Bilbo didn't let on. If Thorin saw the way his hand shook, the dwarf kindly ignored what he saw. Then he explained that the front gates had been sealed long ago when they had fled the serpent.

"So, how are we to get in, then?" he asked, with a pointed look at Gandalf. Sure enough, the wizard pulled out the key from under his robes and handed it to Thorin.

"If there's a key, there must be a door!" Pointed out Fili. Bilbo rolled his eyes.

"So there's a secret door" Bilbo interrupted. "Is there any way to find out just _where_ it is?" Gandalf looked up at him sharply.

 

"Indeed, though I, myself, do not have the skill."

 

"Hmm." Bilbo mused, looking at the map curiously. "There are others, I suppose, who might?"

 

"...Yes." He gave a glance to the dwarf next to him and sighed.

"Very well, Gandalf. Keep your scheming to yourself. No doubt we shall find out who you mean along the way." He conceded. "Asides from that, there is the matter of the _dragon_ no doubt cosying himself into a veritable blanket of gold. A pile of gold, which, if I'm not very much mistaken, you want me to search for _one_ gem-"

"it is not just a gem" Thorin told him. Bilbo all but growled.

_"But it is. Even if you stubborn dwarves are too blind to see that. Does it have a hold on you even from here, Thorin? As pretty as it may be, a gem is a gem. It is in no way indicative of your right to rule. You are king by birthright. That should be enough. Is a pretty stone worth your life? The lives of your kin? MY life?"_

 

That was what Bilbo wanted to say. He did not, though, but merely continued. "Which is a nigh impossible task even without the prospect of a live and fire-breathing lizard. I don't suppose you even have a plan for that, do you? Just throw the burglar in and hope he doesn't get roasted-" He saw the horrified looks that they were all giving him and stopped, sighing. "I'm sorry. I must be more affected by what happened with Lobelia earlier than I'd thought." They gave him understanding smiles, accepting his excuse, Thorin looked at him with such understanding that he wanted to throttle him, (and wouldn't _that_ be ironic?) because he didn't understand _at all_.

 

"Aye, it's alright, laddie. I imagine you could do with some of that chamomile tea Dori was going on about. You look about fit to faint." Bilbo nodded gratefully as he was guided to his armchair.

 

"It's... it's been a very long day." He admitted. Balin hesitated, and then handed him the contract, which he read through with a kind of sense of detachment. There were some details changed this time around, thanks to Thorin's meeting him earlier, and he couldn't help but roll his eyes, but he picked up his quill and signed, all the same.

 

"Blankets and pillows are in the laundry room. Fili, Kili, you boys can take my room, and there are rooms down the hall for the rest of you. Gandalf, you know where your room is, since it's been there almost as long as you pestered my mother with adventures." The wizard smiled fondly and bowed gratefully. "Thorin, you can take the same room you did last time."

 

"I... are you sure?" He asked, his voice soft. Bilbo nodded.

 

"It... well, it's not like.. it'd be used otherwise, is it?" He sighed and patted Thorin on the back as he passed him. "I'm just going to sit on my bench and get a little air. It's a little warm in here." Thorin bowed his head slightly in acknowledgement.

 

Once he left though, all eyes were on Thorin. The dwarf winced internally.

"Yes?"

"What was it about what that awful woman said that set Mr. Boggins off, Uncle?" Kili asked shyly. Thorin was about to shake his head when he saw the glare Dwalin was giving him.

 

"It wasn't so much what she actually said, but what she was about to say."

 

"You know more than you're letting on, don't you, Laddie?" Balin prompted, and Thorin frowned at his perceptiveness.

 

"Yes, but trust me when I say it is his own business and it would be best to let him tell you in his own time, should he wish to." His eyes lingered on his nephews, and he wondered if seeing them had perhaps also added to the hobbit's anguish. But he could not dwell on that. The boys nodded, and left to collect the bedclothes that Bilbo had laid out in the laundry room for them.

 

Eventually it was only Balin and Dwalin in the room with him, and he knew that they would not leave him alone until he told them. He hoped Bilbo would forgive him this.

 

"He... -"


	7. Really Bilbo, Your Home Is A Hotel For Dwarves

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Kili is adorable and makes Bilbo feel better about the whole mess with Lobelia. Also Bilbo finds a letter that he isn't at all sure that he wants to open.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So it's been a while since I've updated this, and for that I sincerely apologize. I am hoping to get back to my multi-chapter fics, but I have been sorely lacking in inspiration.  
> I hope this chapter doesn't disappoint, and thanks for all of your comments and support.  
> (and Lani, I do really appreciate your comments and advice, it's just that for some reason the thought of replying to huge comments intimidates me. But you were completely right about it being weird that Thorin gave away Bilbo's secret so easily, so I changed that)

Thorin managed to stop himself before he blurted out that Bilbo had once had a younger brother. After all, it was hardly his story to tell, and it was shameful that he would even think he had any right to tell it. He shook his head and looked again to the sons of Fundin.

"No. I said before that it is his business, and you will honour that. Am I understood?" He folded his arms across his chest and met their eyes until they were forced to concede. Dwalin grumbled whilst Balin only hummed thoughtfully. Kili tapped on his uncle's shoulder to get his attention.

"What is it, lad?" He asked, looking down at the young dwarf fondly.

"I.. should I maybe go and see if Mister Boggins is alright? And he only had half of his meal, so I'll take one of these raspberry tarts out for him." Thorin smiled at his youngest nephew's thoughtfulness and nodded.

"Alright, Kili, you do that." He agreed, and watched him collect the dessert and make his way out of the door.

 

Bilbo sat with his face in his hands. The cool night air had helped some, but still the memory of little Will - who had been grabbed by that warg on their very doorstep - ate at him. It was almost a relief, compared to thinking constantly about the future deaths of his companions - those had been constant in his mind for decades. But he had a chance now, to save them, and he was not going to allow it to go to waste. It seemed that all of his grief for his own family, though by the end of his days a thing long forgotten, had been torn out of him anew, and Lobelia's prodding most certainly did nothing to stop the pain that he felt. He straightened when he heard the clomping of dwarven boots - not too heavy, so it was one of the youngsters, no doubt.

"Mister Boggins?" The quiet, carefully voiced words left no doubt as to who it was. Bilbo turned to see Kili standing with a raspberry tart in hand, which he offered to the hobbit. "You didn't get to finish your dinner" he said by way of explanation. Bilbo smiled, and took the plate with good grace. "May I sit with you?"

"Of course, make yourself comfortable, Kili." Bilbo replied with a smile that did not quite reach his eyes as he gestured for Kili to sit next to him on the bench by his side. For a good long while, neither of them spoke, and Kili let Bilbo eat his tart. When he did speak, it was not to question the hobbit.

"Uncle seems to like you." He told him, and Bilbo had to grin. He had to agree, and it was a very different introduction they had been given this time around. He waited patiently for the young dwarf to continue. "And you're a very good cook. And you've given us beds and food and been very kind to us - yet you want nothing from us." He paused, meeting Bilbo's eyes. "So I can't figure out why anyone would ever say such cruel things to you." Ah, so that was the crux of it. He'd still not let the whole Lobelia Incident. Bilbo patted him on the knee and smiled gently.

"Lobelia's always been a jealous sort, and spits venom in her words like a dragon spits fire. It's her nature." He let out an exasperated sigh. "I honestly shouldn't have let it get to me so much, but, she brought up my family, and that's been always been a sore subject." Kili hummed in agreement, and to the lad's credit, he did not press the hobbit any further.

"I never really knew my father." He admitted. "Fili remembers him and tells me stories sometimes. But for me, Uncle Thorin's been the closest thing I've ever known. To be honest, I'm afraid of disappointing him. What if I'm not good enough for this quest?" He asked, looking so helpless that Bilbo felt the paternal instinct that had rose up the moment he laid eyes on his nephew Frodo, had started bubbling anew.

"I doubt Thorin wants anything more to keep you safe. I think it's just easier for him to mask his worry with anger. Don't fuss too much. Besides, if he gets out of line, I'll just have to yell at him too, won't I?" He asked with a small grin, and he counted it a victory that Kili laughed aloud. "Come on then, I do think we've been out here long enough. It's time to get back to business, I believe."

 

They returned to the smial and Kili made a beeline for Fili, and Bilbo shook his head fondly before his eyes met with Thorin's. He gave him what he hoped was a reassuring smile. The dwarf inclined his head slightly in what Bilbo decided was a nod.

"Well, yes, my apologies for all that, everyone." All of them murmured their assurances that he was not to blame for the prejudices of his relatives, and that was that. They settled back into their conversation.

"I was telling my kin that the dwarves of the Iron Hills would not come." The dwarf admitted with a heavy sigh.

 _Not until the dragon is dead_ , Bilbo's mind supplied unhelpfully. _Not until you have reclaimed your home. They had just as surely abandoned you as the elves did. Kin should know better._ Outwardly, he met Thorin's words with a sigh of his own.

"Well, that's that then. I do suppose we're on our own. Well, we'll just have to make the best of things, as my dear old Pa used to say." And with that, he bustled into the kitchen, where everything was all tidied away courtesy of his guests. Dori was offering him a chamomile tea, which he accepted gratefully, sipping at it as he watched the faces of his companions. Dwalin had his arms folded, and was glaring at a framed painting made by one of Bilbo's great aunts; Balin looked sad and thoughtful. Bofur and Bombur were chatting away to Bifur. Gloin was counting his coins whilst Oin was cleaning out his ear trumpet. Dori was fussing over Ori, who kept looking at the hobbit's bookshelf with cautious wonder. Fili was rebraiding Kili's hair because he had somehow managed to get it into knots, and Nori-

"Would you mind and keep your sticky fingers to yourself, Master Nori" Bilbo called without even turning around. "Do what you will on the road, if you please, but it is beyond rude to be thieving from one's host. Unless, of course, you mean by your actions to tell me that I have been a poor host? And if you are in need of extra provisions - all you need to do is _ask_. That last goes for all of you, I hope you know. If you need any threads or extra cloaks. Even if you want to borrow a book-" he glanced at Ori, who smiled sheepishly. "please feel free to do so. For as long as you stay here, my home is yours."

He wasn't quite prepared for the reaction that his words gleaned from the stunned dwarves. Firstly, Nori hastily put Bilbo's belongings back where they belonged, secondly, Balin and Dwalin stood gaping at him, and the Ur family grinned, with happy tears in their eyes. Dori nearly dropped the teapot in his surprise, and Ori, Fili and Kili all dove to hug him at the same time. Oin and Gloin looked the least affected, but they were still smiling warmly. Needless to say, Bilbo was more than a little flustered. He blinked as he tried to make sense of the gaggle of arms thrown around him, stammering and blushing something fierce.

"Now, lads, what's all this? Ori dear boy, don't cry, you'll set me off, too"

"You're the best, Mister Boggins. The nicest hobbit I've ever met." Kili exclaimed from where his head was buried in the hobbit's shoulder.

"You've only met two, my lad." He admonished gently, before looking up to see Thorin, who seemed about fit to faint.

"Master Oakenshield? Is everything quite alright?" The dwarf blinked and came back to himself, taking in the sight of the three younglings dangling off of their burglar. He nodded, a slow smile spreading across his face.

"You have shown us more kindness than we have known since the fall of Erebor, Master Baggins. An offer such as that - I would that we had found the Shire sometime sooner, perhaps then-" Bilbo met his eyes, and he sighed.

 _Yes, well. That's about thirty years too late_ , he thought, and he knew Thorin saw what he was thinking. So outwardly he just shook his head.

"Speculating is all very well, but can you do that once these here limpets have been removed from my person? I have beds to set up for you. Make yourselves comfortable in the lounge, if you would. And there might even be some hot cocoa for the youngsters. If they would kindly let me free." He said, with a pointed look at the three of them. All of whom quickly disengaged their arms and allowed Bilbo to shake himself off with the promise of a warm treat.

"Would you like any help with that, Master Baggins?" Dori offered, but Bilbo shook his head.

"No, no. It's quite alright. In fact, I should have had it all sorted before now, but I got so caught up in making dinner for everyone that I quite forgot about it. I'll leave you to yourselves whilst I sort everything so that you can all have a comfortable night."

 

And so Bilbo set off to work, changing sheets, and digging through his cupboards to find the spares. It was hard work, outfitting his smial to accommodate thirteen dwarves and a wizard, but he got it done. As he did so, he heard their song reverberate through the halls, deep as stone, and a curious blend of velvet and gravel in their voices. Just as it had been when he had first heard it, it was beautiful and melancholy:

_Far over the misty mountains cold_  
_To dungeons deep and caverns old_  
_We must away ere break of day_  
_To find our long forgotten gold_

_The pines were roaring on the height_  
_The winds were moaning in the night_  
_The fire was red, it flaming spread_  
_The trees like torches blazed with light_.

 

And whilst Bilbo listened, he hadn't realised that he had saved his brother's room for last. What on earth was his subconscious trying to tell him? Perhaps he had been trying to avoid it. Yet it was inevitable he would come to it eventually. He placed the new bedclothes onto the mattress, and paused. If he was changing things this time around, there was no guarantee that he _would_ make it back to his warm hobbit hole or his books, or his doilies. Or indeed, his brother's belongings. He might as well take a look through. So he sorted through the drawers, which had nothing out of the ordinary in them, though it nearly brought him to tears at how much they still smelled of him, after all this time. Nothing really jumped out at him, until he noticed that one of the drawers had a false bottom - of course it did. That was where they had hidden all their knickknacks as fauntlings, for when they would have adventures together. _Well, little brother,_ the hobbit thought wryly, _it does seem like I'm having enough adventures for the both of us._ He lifted the lid and his heart almost stopped when he saw the envelope there. Old, the paper yellowed, addressed rather clumsily to _Billbuh_ , quite obviously in his brother's handwriting. His eyes stung as he tried to swallow back the sobs that try to lurch up his throat and out of his mouth with every breath. There was no way in Arda that he was opening that right now. He would keep it until he was sure that he wanted to read what it said.

He picked up a leather braided bracelet which a kind travelling merchant had told them was for luck on long journeys. Slipping it onto his wrist and securing it, bitter thoughts clawed at him. _I should have asked for one to ward off winter._ As it was, the past was the past, and he had better stop neglecting his guests. Put your best foot forward, dear old Bungo used to say. Sighing, he shook himself from his thoughts and brushed himself off. And if his eyes were a little red, _well._ That was nobody's business but his own.

"That's all the beds set up." He announced quietly. The dwarves yawned and got up to walk down the hall, but Thorin stayed behind.

"They seem to approve of you"

"Hmm." Bilbo agreed, though his mind was distracted, and he was still holding the letter in his hand. Thorin noticed it.

"What's this?"

"A letter. I found it. In..."

"Your brother's room." Thorin finished for him. Bilbo nodded, unable to meet Thorin's eyes. "Will you open it?" Thorin asked.

"No. Not yet, anyway." Bilbo said. "Now off you go and get some rest."

"Likewise, Master Baggins." Thorin replied, his gaze firm. Bilbo puffed up in annoyance.

"I have to tidy the lounge and put the chairs back in their proper places, and _then_ I will get some sleep. Besides, I do believe Gandalf looks as if he wants a word with me. Now shoo, and get some sleep." Thorin did so, but reluctantly.

 

Bilbo prepared himself to face the suspicions of a wizard. And after everything Bilbo had faced, he shouldn't be so frightened of Gandalf, should he? All the same, he approached with caution. Better not to antagonise him too much.

"I do believe I had it on good authority that you were a perfectly respectable hobbit, my dear Bilbo." Gandalf told him, sounding very much like he was trying to gently scold the hobbit into spilling all of his secrets. But Bilbo had known Gandalf for too many years to be put off by such tactics. He merely smiled fondly.

"Respectability is overrated, my dear Gandalf." He replied with a smile in his voice. "What good would I do here, hidden away with my father's books and my mother's doilies. It's foolish. I cannot pretend that they would want this for me - Bungo, perhaps. But can you honestly say that Belladonna Took would want her son to be anything but an adventurer? Just because I am not quite the hobbit you expected, it does not mean I am not the one you need. Now, if you'll kindly go to bed so I can put out the fire and get some rest myself, I would be most obliged." Gandalf bowed his head and made his way to the room especially made up for a Big Person.

Bilbo finally, finally, sat down in his armchair and drifted off to sleep. He would need it, after all. He was going on an _adventure._


	8. Hobbit History Lessons

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bilbo makes breakfast, and gives a little lesson to the youngsters on Hobbit history, and there is not really much more plot than that.
> 
> (but hey, at least you get a chapter. I promise they will start travelling in the next one.)

Bilbo woke before dawn, and from the snores that were as loud as a battle between stone giants, it seemed he had woken before the dwarves. Good. That gave him time to prepare. He was mostly packed already, he just needed to make everyone breakfast and then kick Fili and Kili out of his room so that he could get properly dressed for this adventure. Smiling to himself as he brushed the grit out of his eyes and yawned, Bilbo decided that today was going to be a beautiful day, and nothing, not Lobelia, not thoughts of dragons or orcs or battles or gold-madness or dead brothers, were going to ruin his mood.

 

He heard the noises of someone pulling themselves out of bed, but to his surprise, it was not Thorin who woke. No, as soon as he heard the thud of someone falling to the floor, he knew for a fact that Kili had kicked Fili out of the bed in his sleep. He grinned and knocked on the door politely.

"Alright in there, boys?"

"Yes, we're fine." Fili replied through the door. "This always happens."

"Well, as long as you're alright" Bilbo said with a smile, and left them to it. "I'm making breakfast, if anyone has any favourites." He called through the door. Fili poked his head out of the door immediately, and Kili was not far behind him. They were still in their sleep-clothes, the idiots, but he supposed that he would let it pass this time, with merely a roll of his eyes.

"Can you make those pastries shaped like crescent moons?" Kili asked excitedly, and Bilbo couldn't help but chuckle as he smiled at them both.

"They're called croissants, Kili lad. And you, Fili?" he prompted when the blond dwarf didn't answer his earlier question.

"Whatever you offer, we'll gladly take, Master Baggins."

"Come now," Bilbo prodded gently, "You must have _some_ sort of favourite food?" Kili nudged his brother and whispered something in his ear, which Bilbo decided was 'just let him mother you for Durin's sake, can't you see he _wants_ to make our favourites?' And Fili scratched just behind his ear rather embarrassedly, before replying with;

"Apple turnover, if it's not too much trouble, Master Baggins." Bilbo just grinned widely and shook his head.

"No trouble at all, Fili lad. None at all. But if you could get yourselves up and ready, you could help set the table before everyone else gets up?" They agreed enthusiastically, and he let them get ready whilst he found what he needed from his second pantry. None of the dwarves were sleeping in his hallways this time around, which made it easier to navigate them, thank goodness (also he hadn't exactly had to make breakfast for them, since they had already left by the time that he was awake. He still remembered the lurch his heart did when he thought they were gone and it was too late to catch up with them. And then where would they have been? Dead long before Erebor, of course. It was more than likely that the trolls would have eaten every last one of them - and they wouldn't even have been properly seasoned first. A travesty, truly.)

 

Dwarves, he had found, were very efficient creatures - or perhaps the ones he had known had simply become so because of necessity, but at any rate, Fili and Kili made quick (and surprisingly quiet) work of setting the table. From what he remembered of the boys, it was their way of apologizing, though for what, he wasn't quite sure - the earlier snooping, perhaps.

 

He got all of his ingredients ready, and asked the boys to help with chopping or peeling, since they seemed to need _something_ to keep their hands busy, otherwise they would hover awkwardly, and that was not allowed in a Baggins kitchen. If you were in the kitchen, you helped, and if you weren't going to help, you would do well to leave post-haste, before someone has an unfortunate accident with a frying pan.

 

"How come Uncle's so nice to you, anyway?" Fili asked - how the boy thought that was a good ice-breaker, Bilbo would never know. Then again, he _was_ related to Thorin, so bluntness that bordered on rudeness probably ran in the family.

"You don't mince your words, do you lad?" And he at least had the good grace to look embarrassed, and Kili rolled his eyes.

"Ignore him, Mr. Boggins, he's just grumpy because I kicked him in the face and knocked him off the bed."

"Ah, I wondered what that noise was" Bilbo replied with a grin, "and as to your question, I'm not quite sure I _can_ answer it. I half think it's because he put his foot in his mouth the first time we met and is wary of somehow insulting me and all of Hobbit-kind again.”He chuckled to himself. "It's adorable, really." Fili burst out laughing.

"Thorin isn't exactly the most diplomatic of dwarves, that's true." He admitted as he handed the finely sliced apples to Bilbo to put in the pastries. “Especially when it comes to-"

"Mr Bilbo!" Came an excited voice from the direction of the study. _Oh, Ori_ , he thought fondly. The young dwarf was clutching some of his books, the ones of family histories, oddly enough.

"Yes, Ori?" he asked mildly, whilst the lad opened the book to one of the later pages, the one with his grandfather and his mother's generation.

"Can hobbits _really_ have that many children? Are some of them adopted?" He asked, excited, and Bilbo could hardly fight down the urge to grin.

"Not generally, no. My grandparents were unusual that way. But as a rule, hobbit families tend to average at about three or four children, sometimes five."

"Your grandparents?" The young dwarf asked, fascinated.

"Yes, Ori, and I know from that look on your face that you have more questions, which I will be more than happy to answer, but perhaps you could let us serve up breakfast first, hmm?" The young dwarf blushed, and Kili ruffled his hair - even though Bilbo knew Ori was a little older than Kili, he had been far more sheltered than the young prince. He smiled and rolled his eyes as he took everything off the stove to place on the table. "There now - Fili, would you do me a favour and let everyone know that breakfast is ready, should they wish for any?" The oldest prince nodded and set about his task, glad to be of use.

 

"Now then, Ori lad, you wanted to know about my family, yes?" Ori nodded his head so furiously that Bilbo was half afraid it would fall off - Kili, too, was listening intently to what Bilbo had to say.

"See right in the middle there, that was my mother, Belladonna. All the rest on that row are my aunts and uncles." Ori's eyes were wide as saucers as he took in all of the names. "And above them is my grandfather, Gerontius Took, but we all call him Old Took, because, well, I would think the reason for that quite obvious."

"But what does the word next to his name mean, this "thain" thing?" Kili asked, pointing to where it was written in small and tidy script underneath the name Gerontius. Bilbo had really hoped he wouldn't have to get into this, but he supposed that is was inevitable. “The Thain, is in charge of keeping the Shire in order, settle disputes and such like. It used to be an elected position, but now it's come to be inherited by the eldest Tooks, for example, after my grandfather, my uncle Isengrim will be Thain, though part of me thinks the old goat might just outlive us all.”

He heard Gandalf's chuckle from where the old wizard leant against the wall.

“Indeed so, my dear Bilbo? I was promised breakfast, and appear to have walked into a history lesson.” Bilbo fussed and got together a plate for the wizard, who took it and ate quietly. Kili seemed to be thinking so hard that it was hurting his head, whilst Ori still seemed fascinated.

“But that sounds an awful lot like a kin-” Kili started, but Bilbo cut him off, waving his wooden spoon in the boy's face.

“Don't, and don't let Thorin hear you say nonsense like that, or he might believe it. There is no such thing as royalty among hobbits, thanking you kindly, lad. We've no need for kings or treasures here, not when we have each other and we have the land to provide for us. We are private creatures, but we welcome guests. The Thain's just someone people can go and complain to to make things more official than simple griping, really. Used to be a military position, a very long time ago, but the books don't say much more than that. And I haven't been able to find anything from further back, which is a shame, because it doesn't do to forget one's history.” He noticed that the dwarves currently at the table were staring at him, so he fussed with the dishes and such until they occupied themselves with the food.

 

He heard the footsteps of the dwarves who had taken longer to wake, and welcomed them all to the table.

“Ori, would you put the books away please, there does need to be room for everyone” he scolded gently as he noticed the young dwarf about to turn the page – the page dedicated to all those who died in the Fell Winter. He was _not_ going to be explaining that one to the whole company at the breakfast table.

“What's this?” Thorin asked when he appeared through the doorway.

“Young Ori was curious about a book he found, and Kili decided he wanted to be nosy. You remember where it goes, yes?” He directed that last to Ori, who nodded and scurried off to put the book back on the shelf. “And also,” he added, gesturing to the table, “you're welcome to breakfast, if Fili hasn't told you that yet.”

Thorin blinked, staring at the food piled up before him. “How on earth do you afford all this?”

“Hobbits grow most of their own food, Thorin, and much trading and bartering goes on between folks, besides which, there are always tweens thieving in Farmer Maggot's fields. Time honoured tradition that is. Though it's more suited to Tooks than a respectable hobbit like a Baggins.”

“I bet you still did it though.” Kili interjected with a smirk, and Bilbo grinned

“Of course I did. My old Pa was dreadfully disappointed in me, and Ma had to play along as if she was too, but she made me my favourite shortbread biscuits and said she was glad I wasn't just a stuffy old Baggins like Pa.”

That earned a chuckle from the dwarves in the kitchen, and soon Dwalin and Dori and Nori and all the others were there and digging in to the good hearty breakfast before them.

 

“Excuse me, Master Baggins,” Nori had come through to put his plate on the counter next to the sink to be washed, “But I'd like to say that if ever that nasty hobbit lady ever does try to steal from you, I'd be more than happy to steal it back.” Bilbo was touched, because from Nori, that was practically a promise of brotherhood, let alone friendship. “And thank you, for indulging Ori's curiosity back there – there's a lot who wouldn't have that much patience for a youngling going through their shelves like that. Soaks everything up like a sponge, he does, but never knows when to leave well enough alone.”

“A habit, which of course, he's picked up quite in spite of his brothers. Not like you would ever poke your fine nose where it doesn't belong, Master Nori, how quite out of character that would be. No, no. I expect that you are the very model of minding your own business”. This kind of exchange was common between them in Bilbo's past life, and he found himself grinning when Nori chuckled and gave him a playful punch on the arm.

 

“You aren't half bad, Master Burglar, but I still don't quite see how you're to burgle from a dragon.” His tone was kind though, and he looked at Bilbo thoughtfully, but not critically.

“He'd smell you a mile off and not think twice before chomping down on you, fine nose and all, Master Thief. Hobbits have not been that far East for... oh, for an Age and a day, probably. If I'm lucky, he'll be sleeping, and if not, he will be curious enough for me to stall and escape. I hope, anyway.”

Nori hummed, and handed Bilbo a plate to dry, seeing as he had been washing him all this time anyway (honestly, what was it with dwarves and their stealth when it came to chores?) and only spoke once they were both finished. “I think you've a good head on your shoulders, to have that much of a plan. But I'm still of a mind to teach you all I know 'bout theivin' so as you don't get yourself killed.” Bilbo smiled warmly again his heart constricted with a bittersweet joy that he and Nori were going to be such good friends again. He hadn't got much of a chance to talk with Bofur yet, but he could sort that out soon, when he kitted them all out with extra pipe-weed.

 

“I should like that very much, Master Nori, thank you. Now, if everyone's finished, I suppose Thorin will be wishing to depart soon?” It was not Nori, but Thorin Oakenshield himself who answered, as he had come through to see what was taking so long and heard his name mentioned.

 

“Aye, Master Baggins, at the earliest convenience. We wish to collect our ponies and be on the road before midday.” Thorin speaks like a king, as if he has no room for anyone to contradict him – but Bilbo can see that that is not the case. If Bilbo asked if they could stay just a little while longer, he felt that Thorin, though he might be grumpy about it, would give in to the request. That could be useful, when attempting to convince him that they really should stop by Rivendell on the way.

 

On the other hand, it scared him to think what he might do, given this much power over Thorin Oakenshield's decisions. That wasn't something he had ever had to think about before – and if because of it, something went wrong, then everything he was preparing for could fall to pieces.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you enjoyed reading this chapter and I apologize profusely for being so slow with this. I know I've replied to all the comments already, but seriously, you guys have been _amazing_ and seeing people liking this even after I leave it alone for so long is amazing. 
> 
> I am determined to keep writing until I finish this, but it will be slow, and I'd like to thank all of you for sticking with me so far. I've even had some people say that they think this is, so far the best fix-it/second chance story they've read, and you have no idea how much that means to me. So thank you all so much, I hope you keep enjoying my writing. May Eru bless you all <3


	9. It's a Dangerous Business, Stepping Out Your Front Door

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bilbo says one last goodbye to home, and our heroes set off on their adventure.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WE FINALLY ESCAPE BAG END.

Bilbo had, quite honestly, been so caught up in preparing for the dwarves to arrive for the past few months that he had neglected to think on just how much leaving home like this for the second time was going to affect him. But as the dwarves packed up their things and begun to ready themselves to begin their journey, Bilbo found himself dallying, taking lingering glances at things that he would be leaving behind – perhaps forever. And truly, it wasn't the walls or the doors or the furniture that he would miss, but the memories attached to them.

 

There was his fathers armchair, by which he and Will had sat and listened to many a fireside tale of the histories of hobbits, the Dunedain or elves, for Bungo had always fancied himself something of a historian. There was his collection of books, which had mounted over the years. And there was Will's room, which he now remembered (and wasn't that funny, that he could have forgotten it?) had become Frodo's soon after he had joined Bilbo in Bag End. And even the study, where Bilbo spent many of his hours – a great many, in fact – writing his book. The table where he had taught Frodo and Samwise their letters. Dear Frodo and Samwise, a steadier friendship between hobbit lads would never be seen throughout the Shire. Samwise had carried Frodo to the very mouth of Mt. Doom, when he could no longer carry his burden on his own – Bilbo couldn't help but admire him for that.

 

Letting out a shaking breath, he steadied himself and picked up his things – his travel bag was much heavier, now that he knew what such adventures entailed, and all around he was much better prepared. Only, he hadn't prepared at all, not for this part. Not for the actual leaving his _home –_ and though he had told Thorin it wasn't much of a home any longer, that had been somewhat of a hollow truth, because it still held so much memory, even if only the ghosts of his haunted past lingered there – after all, only a dragon and his hoard remained in Erebor now, and still Thorin longed to reclaim it, so really, the dwarves would be hypocritical to criticize him for this sudden bout of homesickness, even if he was not yet out the door.

“Thorin!” he all but squeaked in surprise as he turned to face the dwarf, heart hammering in his chest like a jack-rabbit. “Don't _do_ that.”

“Apologies, Master Baggins. I merely came to check on you. You have all of your things, I suppose?” he asked, nodding to the pack in Bilbo's arms and the thick travelling coat (perfect for concealing his knives). Bilbo frowned, suddenly realising that, whilst he had his bow, his quiver and arrows were mysteriously missing – though he had a sneaking suspicion he knew where they had disappeared to, and who it was who had disappeared them.

 

“Yes, yes, once I reacquisition my arrows from your nephew, I'll have quite everything I need.” he replied, and Thorin gave him a small smile, before squeezing his shoulder gently. Honestly, dwarves. Still, he supposed that, in it's own way, the gesture was comforting, and it was certainly kindly meant. “I simply need a moment to... say goodbye, I suppose”. Which was true, but he felt extremely vulnerable in revealing such a thing to Thorin, but the dwarf only acknowledged his words with a nod, and left the room.

“I shall make sure Kili gives them back, Master Baggins.” He said quietly as he left, shutting the door behind him.

 

“Bilbo. I do believe I've told him to call me Bilbo already.” he grumbled under his breath as he dug in one of his drawers to find what he needed. It was tucked right into a corner, and the chain was knotted, but he put it safely into his pocket without looking at it for now. He might need the strength it gave him along on the journey, but it was enough just to carry them with him, even though he could not bear to look at their faces.

“Goodbye, Ma, Pa, Will. I know at least two of you would be happy about all this adventuring I'm going to be having, and Pa, even if you weren't, I know you'd hug me tight and wish me luck. I don't know how likely I am to meet any wolves – but wargs and orcs aplenty I'm certain of.” He sighed, drinking in the sights of his home one last time. “I know it isn't very hobbitish of me, but perhaps I will find some peace if I can avenge even one of you. I miss you all, and I'll miss Bag End, but this is something I have to do.”

 

He picked up his key from his set of things and walked out the door to where all of the dwarves were already on their ponies, save Thorin, who appeared bemused by Hamfast Gamgee, who was clearly scolding him.

“-can you folks all mean by this, stealing our Mister Baggins off on an _adventure_ , of all things. It's not right and it's not proper-”

“Hamfast!” Bilbo admonished, but his tone was fond. “I'm not being stolen anywhere. I am not some thing to be _burgled.”_ he caught Nori's eye in particular as he said this, and the thief snorted with laughter. “And if I wish to go on an adventure, I shall. Though I shall expect my garden to be as neat as when I left it, should I return, Hamfast, and I've arranged with the Thain that you'll still be paid for your work, not to worry.” Hamfast was still glaring half-heartedly at the dwarves, but at Bilbo's words he had all but deflated. “And of course, I'll need you to keep an eye that Lobelia doesn't try anything, Master Gamgee.”

“Not on your life, Mister Baggins, sir. If I have to whack her with my rake I'll keep her off yer property. Thoroughly uppity lass who talks through her arse, if you ask me, beggin yer pardon, sir, for the language.” Hamfast blushed – and wasn't he so much like Sam was (will be) at his age? Perhaps, if he did return, they could strike up a closer friendship than just that of employer and gardener.

“I'm to be travelling among dwarves, Hamfast. That's likely not the worst that I'll hear.” there were snickers from a lot of the younger dwarves at that, and Balin and Dwalin shared a look and small, secret grins. “But it's good that you're here, seeing as there's something I'd like you to take care of for me.” He held out his key and pressed it into Hamfast's hand. “There are still some odds and ends in the pantry, which you should feel free to make use of as you like. If you could dust it every now and then, I would most appreciate it.”

“As you say, Mister Baggins, sir.” The gardener agreed, but he still looked mostly stunned, clutching the key tightly in his hand. Bilbo, still feeling somewhat sentimental, stepped forward and hugged Hamfast tight.

“You take care of yourself and that missus of yours, now, Hamfast.” he told him, and turned to where Gandalf was keeping a-hold of Myrtle for him. He mounted himself up onto the saddle, and though it felt familiar to be once again atop this pony, that did not, by any means, make it _comfortable_. He was going to be sore for at least the first week of their journey, but unlike before, the dwarves would hear narry a complaint from him. Not one. Except if they started it. Then it was fair game to complain, because they couldn't call him a weakling without doing the same to one of their own.

 

“Shall we be off now then, Master Oakenshield?” he asked politely once he had gotten himself settled in his saddle.

“Aye, Master Baggins. We shall, if there are no further hobbits determined to maim us from stealing their favourite Baggins.” And with that, the dwarf king nudged his pony into the lead, whilst Bilbo stayed behind with Nori, Dori and Ori. Bifur and his cousins were also quite close by.

“To be fair, there aren't many Bagginses in Hobbiton and one of them is a Sackville-Baggins and married to Lobelia.” he grumbled to himself. He looked up from Myrtle's mane to see Ori frowning.

“What is it?” he asked.

“Can I slingshot tomatoes at her if we ever see her again?” It was such a surprise that it came from Ori that Bilbo couldn't help but laugh.

“Oh, lad. As delighted as I would be to see her face after that, I've already made Kili promise not to fight my petty little battles for me. It wouldn't be fair if I didn't make you promise the same.”

“Fine.” The young dwarf grumbled, deflatedly.

“But I might just have to ask to borrow it so I can do it myself.” he reassured, and Ori perked up.

“I'd be delighted to lend you it for just such a thing, Mister Bilbo.”

 

“That gardener of yours can curse something fierce, Mister Bilbo” Bofur chimed in from behind him. “I was half expecting him to take on Thorin with that rake in his hands.” the miner laughed, and Bilbo shook his head, rolling his eyes fondly.

“Hamfast's a good sort.” He assured them, “a fine hobbit, and one couldn't ask for a more steadfast friend than a Gamgee. Unfortunately, he still insists on calling me “sir”. It wouldn't be proper otherwise, he's always insisted, since I'm his employer. Which is ridiculous, because I've lost count of how many times I insist that he call me Bilbo.”

“Aye, he sounds like a fine fella to drink a few rounds wi'” Bofur said mildly, causing Bilbo to snort.

“Oh, a fine idea that is – drinking with a Gamgee never ends well. Once, when we were barely out of our tweens, Hamfast and I went down to the Green Dragon for a few pints, but I woke up in the morning to a pounding headache and half-dressed in one of my mother's floral gowns. Turns out he'd tried to put it on me whilst I slept but he fell asleep right on top of me. I'm only glad I never went outside with it on – can you imagine?” The dwarves beside him, and even Gandalf who brought up the rear chortled in laughter. “I'd have been laughed right out of the Shire” Bilbo added, “and imagine the fuel it would have given to Lobelia's fire? She'd never have let it go. And no matter what you do, _never ever_ drink the Gamgee's moonshine. You'll be singing like a dying cat from the first sip until noon the next day.” And so the day's ride passed in cheerful chatter with the dwarves around him, answering this question and that about the Shire, before twilight was upon them, and Thorin called them to stop just before dusk. Bilbo didn't think of his pocket handkerchief even once (although he had quite forgotten it again. It seemed that some things were fixed points in time, and forgetting that handkerchief was one of them).

 

It was a place that had obviously been camped in before, but not for some time. It was well sheltered by rocks on one side, and steep hills on the other. The wind might lash at them, but if they were set upon, they would not be unaware. Bilbo knew they would not be set upon, though, for he knew this place from before. As the others were setting up camp, and Bilbo rolling out his own bedroll, Thorin came to stand beside him, and nearly made the hobbit jump six feet in the air when he cleared his throat loudly. Bilbo hid his surprise, however, and turned to face the king.

“Yes?”

“Thank you, for your stories today. It stopped the others from becoming too melancholy at the refusal of aid by our kin.”

“Oh – well, I didn't tell them for any particular reason, I just found that once I started, I couldn't quite stop.” the hobbit explained, and Thorin shook his head.

“Nevertheless, it helped steer their thoughts from more dour subjects.”

“And yet yours never strayed from them? I shall have to think of more exciting stories than Old Took's parties, then.”

 

“There is nothing wrong with your stories, Master Baggins. It is merely that even so, I cannot be distracted from my fears for my people.” Bilbo hummed thoughtfully at the king's admission.

“Perhaps this is presumptuous of me, and I cannot pretend to understand all of your troubles, but my dear old father Bungo used to say that a burden shared is a burden halved. Perhaps I am just a simple hobbit, but I'll always have a willing ear to lend, should you care to share them” he assured Thorin, who marvelled at his thoughtfulness.

 

“I cannot ask that of you.” he protested, but Bilbo just smiled mischeviously.

“You did not ask, Master Oakenshield – I offered, if you remember correctly.” Thorin rolled his eyes at the hobbit's words.

“You are as adept at finding loopholes as Balin has always been at creating them.” He groaned. “Mahal help us all if you decide to take over Middle-Earth.”

“We'd make everyone talk over their problems, Balin would write contracts and I would serve tea and cakes to bribe them into playing nicely. It would all work like clockwork and there would never be any wars ever again, and even dragons would tremble in fear, lest they were deprived of my finest teacakes.” Bilbo decided firmly, and Thorin bit his lip to keep from laughing. The hobbit felt quite pleased with himself for earning that laughter.

“You are quite something, Master Baggins-”

 

-But Thorin didn't finish his sentence, because at that moment, a vaguely Kili shaped blur slammed into the hobbit, knocking poor Bilbo quite flat on his back, and landing on top of him in his excitement.

 

 


	10. Happy Hunting and Hobbit Stories

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kili and Bilbo do a little hunting, Kili irritates a wild boar, and Bilbo has to rescue him.  
> Then everyone has dinner and Bilbo tells a story.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Apologies for how long this has taken me to finish and post. I swear there's a curse on time travel fics that doesn't let us update for months at a time.  
> At any rate, I do hope you enjoy this <3 I hope to have the next chapter done sooner, but holding your breath is probably not a good plan here, guys.

“ _Kili_ ” Bilbo groaned, though it was a little hard to breathe with a dwarf as heavy as a giant boulder lying on his chest. “ _get- get your fat arse off-”_ There was a yelp as Thorin yanked his nephew off of Bilbo by the collar of his coat, looking thoroughly grumpy as he did so.

 

“Try not to break our burglar before the first _day_ of the quest is done, nephew.” He admonished, but Kili was grinning broadly, with bow in-hand, and Bilbo understood what he wanted all too well.

“Fine, fine, I'll go hunting with you, you overgrown scruffy fauntling.”

Kili frowned, not understanding the word.

“What's a fauntling?”

“It's what hobbits call their youngsters when they are very small.” Bilbo explained. “And what we call adults who are behaving like children, too.” he added with a grin. “Now I believe we should go and get to it before you're all stuck with eating _vegetables”_ he teased the young prince, who was too excited about his new hunting partner to do anything but grin.

 

“Alright” Thorin sighed, “but don't stray too far!” He called after his nephew, who was already heading off towards the thicket to the side of their camp.

“I'll keep an eye on him. Wouldn't want to have to deal with Fili's reaction if the idiot tripped in a rabbit hole or something.” Bilbo assured him, before setting off after the young dwarf.

 

The trees were thick and provided good cover – though many pine needles and branches were scattered on the floor of the forest, so that even the most sure-footed hobbit had to be careful where they trod, for fear of startling the game.

They searched the ground for tracks, two sets of eyes intent on locating their prey. Bilbo found some first, and they appeared to be that of a wild hog, which would make a meal enough for the lot of them. The tracks were uneven though, as if it either had only three legs, or were limping. He knelt down to brush his hand gently over them, and signalled to Kili to come and take a look.

“Still fresh” the dwarf agreed in a low whisper. “Come on.” Briefly, Bilbo wondered if Kili was used to giving orders on hunts. He was the only one with a practical weapon for it, at any rate, except perhaps for Fili's knives. If dwarves didn't favour archery, then how on earth did they hunt their food?

 

They came upon their prey not ten minutes later. Kili cleared space on the ground so that he could get into position and kneel. They had decided that Kili's shot would be first, and if that didn't kill it, Bilbo would finish it off. The young dwarf notched an arrow, and drew the bowstring so that the fletching kissed his cheek – and then he let it fly. The arrow sliced through the air and embedded itself into the hog's flank, nestling in deep.

 

But not quite deep enough.

 

There was an indignant squeal of pained outrage from the creature, as if it couldn't understand the audacity of anyone who dared try to fell it (and Bilbo wanted to laugh because oh how it reminded him of Thorin for that – for its sheer pigheadedness. Though he supposed it did have the excuse of actually being a pig.) and it turned on them.

“Kili, the tree!” Bilbo hissed as he took aim himself, not wanting to get a prince gored on his first day with the company. He'd never be able to look Thorin in the eye again if he let his nephew be felled by dinner. Kili, used to listening to and obeying that tone of voice, quickly clambered up into a nearby pine.

 

The pig was charging towards Kili's tree, but just before it got there, Bilbo whistled. It turned, and he loosed his arrow.

 

It struck true, right between the eyes. The hog dropped dead on the spot, and Bilbo couldn't quite help but feel a little pleased with himself. Kili hopped down from his tree, and grinning, retrieved their arrows from its flesh.

“You're good, Mister Boggins. We're going to be great friends, I just know it.” he decided, with all the precociousness of a fauntling of eight. “This is going to be a pain to carry back, though.” He fretted, and Bilbo rolled his eyes.

“Yes, yes, quite. Have you some twine? There's a branch we might tie the legs to, and then carry it evenly between us” he suggested, slinging his bow once more over his shoulder. Kili did the same with his, and frowned thoughtfully.

“That should work, aye – I have some here...” He rummaged through his pockets and found some twine. He collected the branch and let Bilbo tie the knots, which he ended up being rather good at.

 

They made their way back to the camp, and both of them took joy in the shocked expressions of the dwarves around them, Thorin's especially.

“Well then, lads” Bilbo began, and he looked to Kili to finish the sentence.

“Dinner is served!” Bilbo might have been imagining it, but Fili looked a little... jealous of their quick friendship? He'd have to sort that out quite soon.

 

“Well, bless me!” Bofur exclaimed. “Lucky number indeed, Master Baggins. This will feed us all handsomely, and we can salt some besides.” He looked thoughful. “Here, Bombur, get me filleting knife. Wouldn't want to make our weary hunters do the skinning, now, would we?” Bilbo almost flinched at the words that mirrored the trolls, but he managed not to react, though it made him thoughtful – just how would he deal with the trolls this time around? He certainly wasn't going in alone and unprepared, ready to have his arms ripped off, oh no.

“Thank you, Bofur” he managed. “I'm going to go and clean my arrow.”

“Wait – _you_ shot it?” Fili asked incredulously. Bilbo managed to look thoroughly unimpressed.

“Kili shot it angry, and I shot it dead, yes.” he replied in a deadpan voice. Kili seemed to notice that his brother was being grumpy, so he shot Bilbo an apologetic smile before running after his brother.

 

“Fili seems to think you want to steal Kili away from him,laddie.” A quiet and kindly voice chuckled from behind him. Balin.

“No fear of that – hunting with him is one thing, listening to his chatter for hours on end? Why, that much talking might make my poor ears fall off.” he laughed in return and was rewarded with an easy smile from the old dwarf.

“Aye, well, better prepare for mischief of some kind, laddie. Those two are worse than their uncl-than Thorin ever was.”

“Oh, was he a mischievous youth, then, Master Balin?” Bilbo prodded, and Balin snorted.

“Before the dragon? Oh aye. But I'll not embarrass him with such stories as I remember.” The old dwarf replied with a melancholy smile.

 

Bilbo smiled at Balin, and watched as the other dwarves cooked their meal (it smelled divine, and really, he would need to get some recipe pointers from Bombur. No one talked much, too intent on their dinners, and Fili was glaring at him (once upon a time that would have been Thorin, he reminded himself. A grumpy Fili would easier to reason with than a grumpy Thorin, he was sure.)

“Not half bad.” Bofur noted. “Big catch for yer first hunt of the quest, Master Baggins.” Bilbo blushed, not at all used to that sort of praise, and then gave the toymaker a wry smile.

“Hobbits generally wouldn't think so. They prefer tamer meat, reared and fattened in the fields of the Shire. Nice and soft and fat – like most hobbits I know, actually.” He had a little quiet smile to himself at that – what would most of Hobbiton have to say to that, he wondered.

 

“My dear Bilbo.” Interjected Gandalf, a frown worrying at his bushy grey brows, “You speak of hobbits as if you are not one of them.” in his excitement of getting along with most of the dwarves, he had almost forgotten that Gandalf was there. Bebother the wizard.

“Hardly, Gandalf, dear old fellow. I'm merely a different sort of hobbit to most, which people seem to have no end of vindictive fun reminding me of – you no doubt remember Lobelia from last night. I suspect I shall ever be known as that Mad Baggins who went on an adventure, if she has her way. Not a done thing for a Baggins, you see, all this adventuring. I suspect that the Tookishness I inherited from my mother will be blamed. Ah well, at least I'll have good stories to tell the fauntlings at parties if I come back.” Gandalf raised a bushy eyebrow, but said nothing further. Bilbo was distinctly aware that the camp had somewhat quieted in listening to his exchange with the wizard, and so he cleared his throat.

 

“Alright then, whilst we wait, if I'm not going to be regaled with embarrassing dwarven childhood stories, how about I share one or two of mine to pass the time?” he suggested, and the younger dwarves, that is, Kili and Ori, nodded vigorously in assent. Fili was trying his best not to look interested, but it was plain to all who knew him that he was curious.

“We would be much obliged of happy tales, Master Baggins.” Balin assured him kindly. Bilbo looked to Thorin for approval, and the king nodded, the barest hint of a smile playing at his lips.

“Go ahead, Master Baggins, and perhaps we shall trade some of our own tales, if yours proves interesting.”

 

“I hope you know that you are talking to the best story-teller in the Shire, your Majesty.” Bilbo smirked – he would have Thorin's stories by the end of the week. He cleared his throat and began his tale.

“I was a fauntling of but five years when I first saw one of the Big Folk. He seemed to me a Giant, and that was when Ma and Da seemed Big to me. I was so afraid of him that I ran underneath my Ma's skirts and I hid there-” Here he paused, and the dwarves laughed, and he waited for them to quiet before he continued, “but Ma would have none of that. There was a party to be going on, you see. And she had a dreadful lot of work to do to be ready for it. I was determined to hide there all day or until the Man went away, so I told her that. And do you know what she did?” Fili shook his head whilst he listened with rapt attention. Bilbo smiled. It seemed that his interest in the story had outweighed his earlier jealousy.

“Well, I'll tell you what she did. She lifted up her skirts and she kicked me off her leg, right into the arms of this stranger!”

“What happened then?” Ori asked, as the others shushed him and told him just to listen.

“I was getting to that, Ori lad. Now, I told you I thought this Man a giant, and he was so big and I was so little that I thought he was going to eat me, but all he did was plop his hat on my head – it went right over it so I couldn't see a thing – and asked me if I wanted to go on a little adventure with him. Of course, all I ended up doing was tagging along with him and his fireworks for the day. I'm not sure that Ma hadn't planned it just to keep me out of her way for the day.” He looked up to meet Gandalf's gaze across the campfire, and saw that the old wizard was smiling now. “And I do remember that night at the party he gave me a pretty little wooden sword to play with. Mother took it off me after I nearly poked a Brandybuck lad's eye out with it. But the fireworks that night – I don't think I'll see anything as pretty as those should I live to eleventy one. There's nothing quite like a party under the midsummer stars with a wizard's whizzpoppers to enjoy.” Gandalf chuckled warmly at the memory, before coughing a little on his pipe and answering.

 

“My dear Bilbo. I had no idea you still remembered that night.” he exclaimed, a little surprised, but sounding very pleased, too. Bilbo was a little surprised too, since it had been oh, perhaps a century and a quarter since that day – it was strange, the things he recalled with clarity, whilst other memories were cast vaguely into the mists of his mind. The dwarves let out exclamations of delighted surprise at this new revelation.

 

“You knew Tharkun when you were a child?” Thorin asked, immensely surprised. Bilbo blushed and nodded.

“I'm assuming that's what dwarves call Gandalf? Since I know elves call him Mithrandir. My – how many names you have, dear wizard! How do you ever remember them all?”

“Oh, I'm an old man, dear fellow. I am prone to forgetfulness now and again.” Gandalf answered without actually really answering properly at all. Confound the wizard, Bilbo thought fondly.

 

“Oh yes, I met Gandalf as a fauntling, but we'd all heard stories besides.” Bilbo answered with a smile. “he shows up and whisks off some foolhardy Took for an adventure, or else he's there with his fireworks. The fauntlings adore him, but most respectable hobbits, except Tooks of course, but then, they're not respectable to start with, avoid him if he wants any other sort of business than a few firecrackers. Brings nothing but trouble, does the Grey Wizard, if the stories told to young hobbits to make sure they don't go a-wandering are true.”

 

“There was no “whisking off” muttered Gandalf, somewhat indignant. “All they needed was a nudge out of the front door.” Bilbo, who was well-aware of what Gandalf's “nudges” consisted of, believed none of it, but did not argue beyond a disbelieving snort.

 

Dinner was served in short order, and though the dwarves had their fill of fine hobbitish hospitality, for Bilbo, nothing quite made him as happy as food prepared on the road. He felt, having taken these first steps out of the Shire once more, that he, as much as any of the dwarves, was finally heading towards home. His belly full, and his ears filled with stories and songs that his companions shared amongst themselves as they ate, he drifted off to sleep right where he sat.

 


	11. Princely Pranks and Apologies

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Not a very busy chapter, and not the longest, but it only took me one month to do it, so I'll count that as a success.

When Bilbo woke, it was to the quiet of midnight, and the sound of brothers whispering under their breaths to each other. Fili and Kili must be up then, and a glance to his right told Bilbo that Balin was awake too. The old dwarf saw that he too was awake and smiled a little. Bilbo was fairly sure that Balin was still a little wary of him, but he was glad to see kindness in his eyes now instead of purely suspicion. Bombur was snoring loudly, but it did not bother him the way it once would have. Instead, he just found the familiar noise to be a steady comfort.

 

He stood and sneaked a bit of apple out of his pocket to give to Myrtle, which the pony gobbled up greedily. He felt the breeze rustle through the grass and over his feet, and he reached up a hand to scratch the pony's ear. She leant happily into his touch, glad of the attention. Bilbo took in the silence of the night – all was quiet, save for Bombur's snoring. It was a silence he did not like in the least, but he preferred it to what was soon to come. Surveying the opposing cliffs, he noted that their superior height, and lack of a clear view of the top of them made them the perfect vantage point for their enemies. How much of a hopeless fool had he been before, to have failed to have noticed such things. But he was just a simple Shire hobbit then, and had not been hardened by the trials and adventures that now loomed before him once again.

 

A sudden howl cut through the stillness of the night.

 

Bilbo tensed, and stared intently at the clifftops. He knew now how Azog had learned of their journey – that was the howl of a warg scout, almost indistinguishable from a wolf's howl at a distance, but Bilbo had heard that call too many times by now not to recognise it. He gritted his teeth and glared into the distance. There was no point in worrying everyone now, since they were all going to decide that it was nothing to worry about it.

 

“Whh...what was that?” Ori asked, eyes darting nervously where he thought the sound had come from. Apparently the young scribe, at least, was being cautious. Not that it had done him much good in Moria. If Bilbo achieved nothing else in this quest, if he still had to watch Thorin and the boys die, he would damn well stop those idiots from going to Moria. But he was getting far too much ahead of himself with thoughts like those.

“Just a wolf, I'm sure.” Bilbo assured quietly – though wolves had never been something that were “just” anything to him, he knew it was different for dwarves. They'd worry more if they knew what it really was.

 

“Maybe,” Fili allowed, but then he lowered his voice conspiratorially and added, “but perhaps it's a warg scout for a pack of orcs – they'd attack in the dead of night, and slit your throat before you could even scream.” Kili sniggered at his brother's game. Bilbo pinched his nose and sighed, waiting for Thorin to explode at his nephews – he was not disappointed.

“You think a night raid by orcs is _funny?_ ” He demanded, “that you can make light of those who have lost their lives to those monsters?” Fili and Kili looked suitably abashed, but all of the other dwarves stared at him in shock.

 

“Thorin,” Bilbo interrupted quietly. “Don't be so harsh on the boys. They don't know any better-”

“Exactly.” Thorin growled. “They know nothing of the world.” Then he stalked off next to the ponies, and Bilbo couldn't help but sigh again.

 

“Now, lads, don't mind him. Your uncle has more cause than most to hate orcs...”

And so the story, which Bilbo had heard told once before, and had written down and told to Frodo countless times, began again. Bilbo found he could imagine the scene all too well, having seen Azog in battle himself twice over – if you could call the incident with the burning trees a battle, that was. The fire and the deaths and the screams – the horror of seeing his loved ones cut down. Thorin as he stood against the Pale Orc, Fili and Kili as they fell defending their uncle's dying body. He saw himself awaken on a bloody field of bodies, he saw himself by Thorin's side for his final moments, and he came to the realisation that, even if, in the end, everyone came to the same end, he was glad to have been given the time to know them again. Then his memories shifted away from battle when Balin began to talk of dead beyond the count of grief.

 

His thoughts returned to the Shire, and the winter that killed his whole family, and damn near wiped Hobbits completely off the face of Middle Earth. Eventually there had been so many dead from the cold and wolves that there was nowhere left to bury them, and they'd had to burn the bodies. Only, that hadn't worked as well as they thought it would. The smell repelled the wolves, alright, but it was the scent of burning flesh that attracted the wargs and orcs in the first place. He bit his lip for he felt he might cry if he thought on it any longer.

 

Balin had finished speaking now, and they all looked to Thorin in awe, as if with him leading them they could defeat an entire army. Idiots, they couldn't even fight off one Pale Orc and his lackeys when it came down to it, and they'd better damn well hope that the Eagles of Manwë were there to get them out of trouble again.

 

“Get some sleep, everyone.” Thorin ordered. “Fili, you can take the next watch.” Fili was about to protest, that it was supposed to be Dwalin's watch, but then wilted under his uncle's glare. Bilbo felt sorry for the boy, he really did. He tried so hard to stand tall, but his uncle cast a long shadow, and every time Fili gave an indication of his youth or inexperience, Thorin's disapproval would be heaped upon him. It was a lot of responsibility for a young lad, and the hobbit had a mind to chew Thorin out if he did it again. Fili deserved some fun, and if that included teasing unsuspecting hobbits about being scared, well, Bilbo could tease right back. He didn't need Thorin to protect him from his own memories, thank you very much.

 

That being said, he didn't feel much like sleeping tonight, not when he knew that orcs were watching, waiting – how did he know whether they might not strike sooner than just before Rivendell? So he sat huddled into himself, leaning against a rock and staring at the opposite cliff-face, as if his glare could bring it, and the orcs atop it, crashing down to their deaths. Fili eventually noticed he was still awake and smiled apologetically.

“I'm sorry about earlier.” He muttered, his voice absurdly small, and his eyes downcast.

“Now, I'm not sure about how dwarves do things, but I'm quite sure a future king is supposed to look someone in the eye if he's apologising” Bilbo teased gently, patting the ground beside him. Fili looked up at him in wonder, before sobering and repeating his apology, but with his eyes on Bilbo the whole time. The hobbit smiled and patted his cheek. “There now, my lad, isn't that a much better way to do it? That way you can see for yourself whether your apology has really been accepted, of if the offended person secretly still hates you.” Fili blinked in complete surprise.

 

“Sometimes, Master Baggins, I wonder if you aren't as wise as Balin.” he said. _Wiser, I should think, for I would never have considered attempting to retake Moria. From what Frodo has told me, Gimli's cries of grief could have melted a heart made of obsidian,_ Bilbo thought privately, but it was the highest praise in Fili's eyes, and the hobbit knew that.

“I just have a different sort of wisdom, I think.”

“More hobbit-y. But not quite un-dwarf-like.” Fili agreed, before pausing to think for a moment. “I... I am glad that you've made fast friends with Kili, truly. It's just...”

“You're protective of him and are worried that people only want his friendship for some ulterior motive, is that it?” Silently, Fili nodded, not quite sure what to say.

“Yes, that's it exactly. How-” he began, but Bilbo shook his head and sighed, before leaning back and staring up into the stars, as if they might give him back his brother if he stared at them long enough.

“It might have been a long time ago, lad, but I remember what being a big brother felt like.” There was silence between them for a long moment, as Fili processed the meaning of Bilbo's words. “Plus,” he added, “you're a Durin, and you're all quite possessive of your treasures, I hear.” He said it with a smile, and the young prince looked as if he wasn't sure to be offended at the possessiveness comment, or touched that Bilbo would think of Kili as being Fili's most precious treasure.

But then he remembered Bilbo's words just seconds before. He remembered what he had said about being a big brother.

“What happened, Master Baggins?” he asked, almost afraid to hear the answer, though from the look on his face, Bilbo judged that he already knew what he would hear. So here was the second of them who would know, and both of them Durins.

“In the Fell Winter... well, suffice to say, sometimes there are screams, Fili lad, and sometimes there are only whimpers. But death by orc is never silent, nor is it pretty. My father, my mother, my little brother, all died that winter. Father from the cold, mother from the wolves, and... Will...” Fili was silent even as he gently squeezed Bilbo's arm. “Like I said, not silent or pretty.”

 

Silence settled over them then, not uncomfortable, but heavy. Bilbo could see Fili's eyes were on his brother now, suddenly terrified.

“Oi, none of that now.” The hobbit admonished. “If you think Thorin and I would ever let that happen to you two, you obviously don't know us very well.”

“No,” Fili agreed. “I don't, and I made assumptions based on that lack of knowledge, and I apologise for that. But, if you allow, I should like very much for us to be friends.” He held out a hand, which Bilbo shook, smiling warmly.

“Pah, you just want someone to be your lucky charm for hunting, you ridiculous dwarfling.” He answered with a grin, and Fili shoved him gently, smiling as he did so. “Now go and wake Dwalin for the next watch. It's about time you got some sleep.”

 

Fili stood to do as Bilbo said, but then he turned. The darkness of the night was thinning, and soon dawn would be upon them. Though bedraggled, Bilbo thought that Fili looked more a prince here in this half-light than he ever had in the dark of the halls in Erebor.

“Master Baggins?”

“How many times... look, if you're going to be my friend, you might well do me the courtesy of using my first name.” Bilbo huffed without any real anger.

“Bilbo then,” Fili agreed easily. “Do any of the others know what happened?”

Bilbo shook his head. “No, the only ones I've told are you and Thorin.” Fili's eyes snapped towards the hobbit in surprise, before considering it and deciding that it did make sense after all.

“That's why he snapped at us earlier. He was worried about you, how you'd react to what we were saying.”

“Well, it's quite unnecessary of him, I can assure you. Plus, you remember Balin's story. More reason than most and all that.”

“Perhaps,” Fili allowed, but Bilbo could see that he was quite amused, “but a big brother always worries.”

 

As Fili returned to the task of waking the sleeping bear that was Dwalin, Bilbo reeled just a tiny bit over that revelation – did Thorin honestly think of him like a little brother? That couldn't be right, surely. Could it?

 


	12. Bilbo Has No Time For These Stroppy Kings and Wizards

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Nothing very much happens in this chapter, other than a wizard going in the huff and storming off.

When the first rays of the sun crept over the horizon, the dwarves wasted little time in packing up their camp. Bilbo did his part, of course, but it had been a long time since he had slept out in the open, and it had been a little uncomfortable to say the least – though he said nothing about it. It would not do for him to complain of a little discomfort when everyone was in the same boat, though the dwarves did perhaps have hardier bodies.

Today, it seemed that Kili was determined to keep close to him, and Fili, who was riding just behind his uncle today, turned back with a small nod, which Bilbo returned. He knew Fili had not spoken to Kili of what he'd admitted last night, or else the whole Company might have known, but he was glad to have the youngster's cheery company all the same.  
“- and I swear it was three times the size of his mouth, but he still ate it in one mouthful.” The lad was talking about some feast-day they'd been at in the Blue Mountains, where they had been challenged to eat as much as they could all at once – in a rare time of plenty, where everyone had felt like celebrating.  
“That sounds disgusting, and wasteful.” Bilbo mourned for the food that could have been shared out far more equally, “but if that's what you lot find fun, I suppose I can't begrudge it. But then, I suppose, you've never seen a hobbit after they've had a half-pint of the Gamgee's moonshine. You've never lived till you see all the prim, respectable hobbits run around like drunken hooligans – and if they've had a whole pint of it, well. There might have been another incident with a dress that I still have nightmares about.”  
Dwalin snorted, no doubt at the image of Bilbo Baggins wearing a dress. Kili just pouted.  
“You can't leave the story there Mister Boggins. We want to know more about you, come on, please.”

“Nothing you say can convince me that this particular dress incident is worth the retelling, nor have I done anything all that interesting, except agree to an adventure with a baker's dozen of dwarves, Kili lad. But,” he added after noticing the prince's disappointed look, “I suppose I can tell you some old Took Tales that my mother told me, and her father told her.”  
“Her father was the... Thain?”  
“Well remembered, Kili. That's right. Anyway, there's one in particular that I asked her to tell many nights over, and that is the story of Bandobras Took, a hobbit who was so tall he could ride a horse – and he did, too, but that comes later. But when he was a little hobbit, there was nothing to suggest that he might be something other than an ordinary Took lad, and he'd never felt the need that his brothers and sisters did to go on adventures.” Bilbo paused, and his eyes slid to Gandalf, “not until, that is, a certain Wizard came along and convinced him that every Took ought to go on at least one. So he went on a small adventure at first, and went to Bree, and found that he quite liked talking with the Men, because they were tall, like him, so they didn't avoid him, like many hobbits did at the time-”  
“But why would-” Ori interrupted, before Nori shushed him with a nudge in the ribs.  
“Because, Ori lad, hobbits are a small folk, isolated from the world and set in their ways, and anyone different is suspicious. But he found that he liked it so much that he wanted to stay there, and one day, he met with a Ranger, and joined him on his travels to protect the Shire –”

Bilbo's story went on until the rain began. Then everyone was a darn sight more miserable, but Bilbo was far cheerier, because he had remembered to bring along a cloak for the harsh weather, so he was a little better protected than he had been the last time.

“'ere, Mister Gandalf, can't you do something about this deluge?” Dori asked, clearly put out by the water soaking through his clothes and into his skin, despite the cloak.  
“It is raining, Master Dwarf, and it will continue to rain until the rain is done.” the wizard replied, huffing and puffing as if offended in that strange way of his, “if you wish to change the weather of the world, you should find yourself another wizard.”

“Are there any?” Bilbo interrupted, not wanting the dwarves to feel like they needed to argue the point further with Gandalf.  
“What?” Gandalf turned to look at him, blinking the rain out of his eyes.  
“Other wizards. I mean, I know there's at least two more, but no more than that.”  
“Then you know more than many,” Gandalf said approvingly. “There are five of us. The greatest of our order is Saruman, the White. Then there are the two blue wizards. Do you know, I've quite forgotten their names?” Bilbo wondered if there was perhaps more to it than that, but just gave a small smile instead.

“And who is the fifth?” he prompted, though he already knew.  
“Ah, well that would be Radagast, the Brown.”  
Bilbo could not resist-

“And is he a great wizard, or is he... more like you?” He teased with a grin.  
“The cheek on you, my dear Bilbo – I wonder if there is any Baggins left in you at all.”  
“If my old Da could have heard that, well. He might have boxed your ears, Gandalf, hard to reach or no.”  
“Yes, well,” Gandalf continued, “I think Radagast is a very great wizard, in his own way. He prefers the company of animals to others. He keeps a watchful eye over the vast forest lands to the East. And a good thing, too, for always evil will look to find a foothold in this world.”

“Evil, Gandalf?” Bilbo found himself questioning. Was the Enemy stirring even now, even before the Ring was found?  
“Hmm?” Gandalf asked, seemingly not paying much attention. “Ah, not to worry, my dear Bilbo, let us wizards fret over the evil left over from a darker Age that seek to once again return.” When he saw Bilbo still frowning, he lifted a gnarled hand and ruffled the hobbit's hair as if he were still a fauntling of twelve. “Think no more of it, Bilbo, they are an old man's worries, not for a hobbit in the prime of life to fret over.” Bilbo felt very much that he wanted to laugh his arse off at that. Old man's worries indeed. But he restrained himself, for he did not want the Company to think him insane so early on.

They came upon the ruins of the farm cottage soon after. Bilbo felt sorry that their lives had been so abruptly cut short. He could think of so many ends less gruesome than “eaten by troll”, but there was nothing to be done about it now.  
“A farmer and his family used to live here.” Gandalf muttered, frowning as he explored the ruins further, having dismounted his horse.  
“Well, I should not like to meet what could do this to a house,” Bilbo agreed. “Perhaps it would be best to move on.”  
“Yes, hmmm.” Gandalf said, “I believe that would be best.”  
“And where would we go, wizard? It is likely you merely forgot to count the years, and whatever family lived here has been dead for decades. We stop here for the night.” Thorin ordered. “Fili, Kili, see to the ponies.”

Bilbo very much wanted to repeatedly smash his head against the stone walls of the cottage in frustration. So much for his attempt to avoid the encounter with the trolls completely. But, he mused, perhaps it was for the best that they did in fact get captured by trolls, for if they had not, they would never have found the troll hoard, and he would have want of Sting before long on this journey, and Orcrist would serve Thorin well. He would have to try and come up with a plan that did not involve the skinning of dwarves, but in the heat of the moment, it might well be the only thing he could remember when his mind had gone blank with fear. For all that Bilbo had dealt with them before, trolls were no less huge, ugly, or terrifying than they had been before. One could still crush him in the palm of their hands should they so choose. The only advantage Bilbo really had was that these trolls, at least, were frightfully stupid and prone to squabbling amongst themselves.

So caught up was he in his worries about what was soon to come, Bilbo failed to notice the wizard until he stormed right past him, nearly knocking the poor hobbit over in the process.  
“Gandalf!” he exclaimed – quite indignantly too, for it was quite rude amongst hobbits to knock someone over and fail to apologize – “What has Thorin done this time? Why are you in such a tizzy?” he asked, bewildered.  
“That dwarf is as pigheadedly stubborn as his grandfather ever was. I go to seek the company of the only person around here with any sense.” Gandalf replied angrily.  
“And that would be?”  
“Myself, Master Baggins!” he exclaimed as he mounted his horse. “I have had enough of dwarves for one day.” And he galloped off ahead. Bilbo sighed. So far everything was more or less happening the same way. What was he even here to change? Would he be able to change anything, or would he have to relive their deaths? Just once, he wished that he could have died on the ship on the way to Valinor and be done with it, just sleep until the world was remade. 

“Well what about hobbits, you daft old goat?” he questioned the air where Gandalf had been. “Had enough of us too?” Sighing, he turned, only to find Bofur right next to him.  
“I wouldn't worry too much about it, Bilbo. He's a wizard and they come and go as they please, but I don't think he'll abandon us so easy as that. He'll just need some time to cool off his temper I expect.”

“I'm guessing Thorin is refusing to take his advice?” Bilbo asked, and Bofur nodded in confirmation. “Typical stubborn idiot.” he muttered under his breath, and before anyone could tell him how much of a terrible idea it was to interrogate Thorin about his conversation with Gandalf, he marched up to the dwarf and did right that. He stood before the dwarf king with his arms folded and a disappointed expression that would have made Bungo proud – in short, he looked like a very cross hobbit.

“Thorin, I'm not quite sure if you noticed, but we seem to be without a wizard at the moment – and it seems to me that you are the one with whom the blame for that lies.”  
“A lot of things that only seem in that sentence, Master Baggins.” Thorin replied. Bilbo raised an eyebrow.  
“Perhaps that is so, Thorin, but I should like an explanation all the same.” Thorin glared at him, but Bilbo only met his gaze evenly, completely unaffected. He had been on the receiving end so many times on their last adventure that he had become quite immune to it.

“He wants to go to the elves.”  
“Of course he does.” Bilbo snorted. “They are his friends, Lord Elrond especially. And if Gandalf says he has knowledge that we need, then we should listen to the wizard and you, Thorin Oakenshield, should learn to swallow your pride.” His piece said, Bilbo walked back towards dinner. “Bombur's finished cooking, if you'd care for some stew.” And he left Thorin to gape after him in shock.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Still no trolls, sorry, but they will be in the next chapter, I promise! Then it's not very long until Rivendell and I am very excited because elves and probably young Aragorn as well :)
> 
> Also, quick question for everyone who has seen the third film. Were you disappointed at all? It's not like it was bad or anything, I just expected _more_ from it. So many ends were left loose that should have been tied up and it would have taken all of five minutes to do so.  
>  Needless to say, when I eventually get around to the chapters which concern the BOTFA, I will likely be taking more from the book than the movie. But that seems to be a long way off because whilst I had only planned to dedicate twenty chapters to each of the sections as divided up by the movies, I have a feeling this first chunk wants to be a bit longer, but we shall have to see what happens.
> 
> And the story about Bullroarer I was just making up, I don't actually know if he did anything other than whack a goblin king's head off and invent golf, but artistic license is a wonderful thing


	13. Hooting Is Not Conducive To Troll-Slaying (But Poison Is)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> TROOOOOLLLLLLLLLLLLLL(s) IN THE (forest) ~~DUNGEON~~

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Not a Christmas Day, but a Boxing Day chapter, which I think is pretty good going. I had a lovely Christmas with the family, I hope everyone else had a wonderful day as well :)

Bilbo had just finished his own dinner when Bofur handed him two more bowls. He had to hold back a sigh – _here we go again, I suppose,_ he thought to himself. Outwardly he gave the friendly hatted dwarf a small smile.

“Be a star and give those to the lads, Bilbo?” he asked, before swatting at Bombur, who had been angling for another helping. No change there then. Bilbo took the bowls, and headed into the forest.

 

Bilbo hurried along to where the boys were supposed to be, and found them standing stock still, staring at where, probably not that long ago, there had been more ponies. He crept up between the two of them and handed a bowl to each, which they took automatically.

“What seems to be the problem?” He asked, startling to two of them so badly that they squawked like frightened eagles and Kili, he was certain, leapt about two feet into the air.

“ _Bilbo!_ ” Fili hissed once they had recovered themselves, “you can't just sneak up on us like that!” Bilbo just rolled his eyes and looked between the two hopeless dwarflings.

“So, what have you two idiots done _now_?”

“I resent that tone,” Kili pouted. “And what makes you think we always cause trouble?”

“You remind me of my Took cousins, who are nothing _but_ trouble.” He bit his lip, smiling. “And your uncle might have told me about the incident with the mountain goat.” At that they both paled, as if Bilbo had been let into their deepest darkest secret, and then they both deflated.

“We've misplaced two ponies.” Kili admitted. “Daisy and Bungo are missing.”

“Well,” Bilbo began, “shouldn't we tell Thorin?”

“Nah, best not to worry him” Fili disagreed.

“We thought,” Kili added with a grin, “that since you're our official burglar, and a damn good shot – I bet you'll be a natural with those knives too, and if not, Fili can teach you – anyway, you're a reliable fellow in a pinch-”

“Get to the point, lad.” Bilbo scolded gently.

“Well, we thought you could investigate – look over here.” Kili walked ahead to where trees had been uprooted, and Bilbo gulped.

“Well, that is not good – that is not good at all.” Bilbo muttered as he followed along.

 

This was ridiculous. Fili and Kili were both idiots. How had they _ever_ managed to convince him that this was a good idea? But instead of berating them for their utter lunacy, he found himself gritting his teeth, taking a deep breath and saying;

“It's my guess that something big uprooted these trees – something _very_ big.” Fili nodded in approval.

“That was our thinking.” he agreed as he moved forward.

“Big, and possibly quite dangerous” Bilbo said aloud, even as he thought, _that might just be the biggest understatement of the century, Bilbo Baggins, you fool of a half-Took._ Fili turned away and narrowed his eyes, staring into the distance.

“Hey, there's a light,” he whispered urgently. “Over here!” he said as he motioned for the others to follow him. They hurried to a fallen log, and Bilbo didn't have to be told twice when the blond dwarf prince instructed them to stay down. In the distance they could hear mumbling, and Bilbo felt his heart start hammering with fear. True, he had dealt with these exact trolls before and he knew how to distract them if he needed to, but that did not make them any less troll-like or terrifying.

“They're trolls” Kili stated, which was quite unnecessary, but Bilbo supposed that he really should never have seen a troll before, being a hobbit tucked away in the Shire all his life after all.

 

Then, without warning, the two brothers darted forward, leaving Bilbo to scurry quickly after them. This time he decided to just leave the bowls where the boys had set them. If the boys wanted to eat after this they could go pick mushrooms for all he cared. It would serve them right for asking a hobbit to burgle from trolls – and from a dragon, whilst he was at it.

 

They hid behind a tree as one of the trolls passed by with two more ponies – with _Bilbo and Thorin's_ ponies.

“They've got Myrtle and Minty!” He exclaimed, which is very difficult to do when whispering. “ They're going to eat them. We have to do something.”

“Yes. You should!” Kili agreed, rather _too_ excitedly for Bilbo's liking. “Mountain trolls are slow and stupid and you're so small – they'll never see you-”

“no-” Bilbo tried to butt in.

“It's perfectly safe. We'll be right behind you.” the brunet prince insisted. Bilbo levelled him with a disbelieving glare – one that seemed to have no effect at all. He was going to be thrown to the trolls yet again. How wonderful.

 

Fili was talking about hooting and trouble and barn owls and Bilbo realised that he really had to take control of this conversation before he ended up covered in troll snot and nearly having his arms ripped off.

“Wait! Look, you can't just throw me in there and hope for the best. We need a plan.” he insisted, using his best stern uncle voice. It had always worked on Frodo, and it seemed to be working now too.

“What did you have in mind, Master Baggins?” Fili asked quietly. Bilbo took a deep breath and thought for a second.

 

“Kili – you are going to get Thorin. There is a chance things could go wrong and then we'll need everyone if we want to get out of this alive. Hurry now” With a single nod, the younger prince was off like a shot into the night.

“And me?” Fili asked.

“You are going to watch my back, and absolutely _not_ do anything stupid in the event of my capture. At least not before Thorin arrives.” Fili gaped at him, and then nodded when he saw that it wasn't something Bilbo was going to let go.

“Very well. But why ask me to stay behind instead of Kili?”

“If you know your brother then you already know the answer to that question.” Bilbo retorted. “Now let's stop wasting time.” he scolded, and drew his knives from where they were hidden in his cloaks.

“Twice like a brown owl and once like a barn owl, you said?” he asked with a grin before sneaking where the trolls were keeping the ponies. He was almost sure that he heard Fili whispering “ _May Mahal's hammer shield you_ ” after him. Fili was a sweet lad, and deserved more than the death that awaited him if Bilbo could not change their fates.

 

As he edged closer to the trolls – close enough to smell them at least – he began to think about how he might free the ponies. True, he could cut them loose and they would bolt off, but there was no guarantee that the trolls wouldn't just go after them again. But he couldn't think of any other plan, so that would have to do – as for getting himself out of any trouble he might get in with the trolls, well, he had a little Deadly Nightshade in his back pocket that he'd picked up along the way. He would have to see if he could find a way to get it into their system without – and then he noticed the “cup” of whatever it was trolls thought passed for drink. Even if it only got rid of the one troll, the dwarves would have a far better chance of fighting off two than three. If he got a chance to poison the stew then he would, but there was no point in taking an unnecessary risk. If he knew Thorin, and he was almost sure that he did, then the dwarf would shout at him for even taking as much of a risk as he was.

 

So he carefully placed the belladonna in the cup and went over to the ponies. Just as he did so, one of the trolls took a swig.

“Ere, Bert, what's wrong?” One of the others said, but the other did not reply, merely groaned as the poison began to take effect. Now was Bilbo's chance, and he was going to take it. He pulled out one of his knives and started hacking at the ropes that secured the ponies in the pen. As soon as the first one cantered out of the gate, the others soon realised they could follow. He just hoped they made their way back to the others, and had not bolted out into the wilds.

 

The dying groans of a troll, Bilbo decided, were ugly, and unarguably loud – much like trolls in life, really. But it did mean that neither of the others could hear the sound of dwarven feet as Thorin and company charged them. Bilbo barely had the chance to admire how co-ordinated they all were as a unit before Kili threw him his bow and quiver, which he had left at the campsite. He felt decidedly honoured to be included in the action, and the strange fierceness that entered his heart made him forget his fear of these huge creatures for a moment. He notched an arrow, and aimed for the back of one's neck (he couldn't be bothered to remember the names of trolls at that moment). His arrow struck true, and the troll fell forward, nearly crushing Ori in the process, but Dwalin hauled him back out of harm's way. That left only one troll, and Balin gave Thorin a boost so that he could cut the throat of the beast. Bilbo found it strange to see Thorin without Orcrist in his hand or on his back, but that would soon be rectified. His own hand was calling out for Sting, and his heart was still singing with the battle, in a way he had never felt in the Battle of The Five Armies. He had felt so small in that battle, so utterly powerless to make a difference – but in this one was different, it made him feel like he could actually achieve something – but there were no more trolls to kill and he had to calm down.

 

“Did you see that shot Bilbo took?” Kili was asking his brother excitedly, “I've never seen anything like it! I knew he was good when he shot that boar, but a _troll?”_ he exclaimed before turning to said hobbit and grinning. “Where on earth did you learn to shoot like that?”

“If you must know,” Bilbo said, digging an arrow out of the trolls neck – that was going to be a pain to clean, “As a youngster I often played with my Took cousins, and when one of the oldest challenges you to shoot apples off of the girl's heads, you tend to practice rather vigilantly.”

“Did you have the contest?” Fili asked. Bilbo snorted.

“The girls mothers found out about it and we all got a good scolding – and let me tell you, a scolding from a Tookish mother is nothing to sniff at. I should know. I had one myself.” he told them.

 

“Master Baggins!” Thorin called from where he was standing over his own kill.

“Yes, Thorin?” Bilbo asked as he walked towards him.

“That was some fine archery, you would put even an elf to shame.” Bilbo rolled his eyes.

“Don't tell the wizard, or he'll find an elf to test your theory.” Thorin snorted, but clapped Bilbo on the back. Fili had left his brother to collect his own arrows.

“What did you do to that troll's drink, Bilbo? As soon as it took a sip, it was dying.”

“Use your brain, lad – I poisoned it.” Bilbo teased, but not unkindly. Fili blushed, embarrassed that he had asked such an obvious question, and Bilbo took pity on him. “It's odd though, that cave trolls would be so far from the mountains – isn't it?” he asked Thorin, but Thorin was not the one who answered.

“Indeed, Bilbo. They have not wandered this far for an Age – not since a darker power ruled these lands.”

 

“Gandalf!” Bilbo exclaimed, before frowning, looking as disappointed as he possibly could. “You're a bit late.” he said, indicating to the bodies of the trolls, which, now that the dawn was approaching, were slowly turning to stone.

“A wizard is never late, Master Baggins – nor is he early. He arrives precisely when he means to.”

 

 


	14. As Happy As Bilbo Is To Have Sting Back, He'd Rather Not Have Been Chased By Wargs Today, Thanks

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Somehow we manage to reach rivendell today

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Apologies for the lateness of this chapter. Pure laziness and lack of inspiration on my part, I'm afraid.

Bilbo shouldered his bow, leaving his arms free to fold across his chest in quite the show of hobbit-ish indignation.

“Precisely...? And when exactly, Gandalf, did you _mean_ to appear? Because by anyone's guess, your arrival was most late indeed, considering that the trolls have, as you can see, been dealt with, and there is nothing for you to do but stand about looking like an idiot.” The dwarves muttered their agreements and something about wizards being quite useless. 

 

Bilbo had to work quite hard not to smirk at Gandalf's expense, for he could feel the wizard frowning at him even as he hummed thoughtfully to himself.

“Well, no matter, it seems that you've done well enough for yourselves.” Gandalf eventually decided, before changing the subject. “These trolls could not have moved in daylight.”

Thorin nodded thoughtfully in agreement.

“There must be a cave nearby.”

 

And so all of the dwarves packed up their things and followed their king and the wizard – the cave was not hard to find, and the smell gave it away before anything else. Bilbo had decided to go with them to take a look this time, but as they entered, he was beginning to question the sanity of that decision.

“What is that stench?” One of the dwarves exclaimed, but Bilbo was too busy trying not to inhale the filth to see which one of them it was.

 

They rooted through for weapons and coin, and Bilbo even found himself pocketing some – after all, they would come to need every penny, so it was worth their while to make it stretch as far as possible.

 

Bilbo was glad to have come into the cave if only for the look on Thorin's face when Gandalf told him that the sword he was holding had been made by elves. He looked as if he had just picked up his nephew's dirty undergarments, and Bilbo had to laugh.

“Oh come now, Thorin, even I can see that it's a fine sword – who cares who owned it before, when it's your great deeds wielding it that will be talked about for centuries, no doubt.” Appeased, Thorin took the sword, and weighed it in his hands, figuring out the balance. Dwalin moved closer to Bilbo and whispered.

“You seem to be a dab hand at Thorin-wrangling. I might leave it to you more often, laddie.” Bilbo only glared in return.

“Don't you _dare_ , or I'm telling Balin you're shirking your duties.” Dwalin only grinned in response, and something that Bilbo had not even known was missing felt like it settled into place.

 

They were about to leave, when Bilbo's foot caught on something in the dirt, and looked down to see a sword – no more than a letter opener, by anyone's standards but a hobbits, and he reached down to grasp it, and examined it, trying to hide the excitement – the feeling that he had found a long lost friend. _Sting_. It was likely only his imagination, but he felt like the elven dagger somehow remembered him from that other life.

“Well, would you look at that. You've found a perfect fit.” Dwalin tells him quietly. “Would be elvish make, of all things. But somehow that suits ye.”

“Somehow I think you mean something more that the fact this is the right size for me, Dwalin.”

“Ach.” The dwarf scratched his head. “I forget it's different for other races, that they don't ave the words for it. Even if it's old, if you somehow find a weapon that feels like it was created solely for your hands, then it's a perfect fit.”

“I see. Yes, I suppose that sounds about right.” Bilbo replied, fastening the sword and it's sheath to his belt, the familiar weight of it a welcome comfort.

They spared a glance for Nori and Gloin making their “long term investment” and shared an eye-roll before catching up with the rest of the company.

 

Bilbo's adventure had been a very long time ago, but he had never forgotten it – he had memorised every detail and gone over all of the ways that things might have been different, but looking at the Company, he found he had never imagined that they could be family to him – they had been dear friends before, of course, but that had taken near enough the whole journey to happen. Here they were, and the worst they'd had to deal with so far was trolls, and he was already Thorin's confidant, Kili's new favourite archery buddy, Fili's friend, and it seemed like he was now Dwalin's comrade in Thorin-wrangling. He only hoped he would have the time to become as close to the other dwarves as he had these ones. They suddenly heard the noise of someone approaching at fast pace, but Bilbo checked his sword – no blue glow.

“Well, it's not orcs or goblins, at least.” Thorin turned to frown at him.

“Elvish weapons glow blue when those are near. Though if you're planning a stealth attack, it wouldn't be very practical.” The dwarf snorted, but remained on guard, until Radaghast came through with his “Thieves, fire, murder!” And Gandalf greeted his old friend.

 

Bilbo watched uneasily as the wizards conversed, and when Rhadagast told Gandalf of the blade he had found, the hobbit had to bite his cheek to stop from reacting visibly to its presence. He could taste the evil that rolled off of it, in the way that only a former ring-bearer could. He wanted to vomit, but he had no time for that nonsense, because they heard howls in the distance.

“How I wish that were only wolves.” He muttered. Next to him, Dwalin brushed against his shoulder, in what Bilbo supposed was an attempt at reassurance. Needless to say, it wasn't very helpful, as the next moment a warg leapt down onto them from above. Bilbo drew his weapon, but it was dead by Thorin's hand before he could do anything much about it.

Dwalin took care of the other.

“Warg scouts,” Thorin growled. “Which means an orc pack is not far behind.”

“Who did you tell?” Gandalf demanded.

“This really isn't the time, Gandalf.” Bilbo scolded. “We need to get out of here.”

“We can't” Ori called. Of course they couldn't. Bilbo cursed his lack of forethought in regards to the ponies. “The ponies – they've bolted.”

 

But Rhadagast the Brown was there to save the day, as ever. He would draw the wargs off their scent, and they would run. Bilbo knew exactly where to, and he knew that Thorin would not be happy. Frankly, Bilbo did not care, so long as they all got there in one piece and he would finally be able to take a proper long soak in a nice relaxing elven bath and he could leave Lindir to fret about dwarves swimming naked in the fountains.

 

Before that, though, they had some orcs to run away from. Azog wasn't with this pack, but Bilbo was very sure it was him who had sent them. He kept his terror of the creatures at bay, focused on running, focused on making sure the younger ones were still ahead of him, making sure everyone was safe. He couldn't afford to break down right now. _Just get to Rivendell_ , he pushed himself, _get there in one piece before worrying about anything else._

Gandalf found the secret entrance, which the dwarves did not see, and they assumed he had abandoned them. Then his head popped up from under a boulder, and he told them brusquely, “this way, you fools.”

And so they went, one after the other, orcs on their heels, until Thorin and Bilbo were standing waiting on Fili and Kili.

“Kili!” Thorin called, his voice an order, but Bilbo could sense the panic behind it. Without thinking, he drew his own bow, caught the warg on the nose, darted forward, stabbed through its brain with Sting, grabbed Kili by the collar, and dragged him down to the entrance.

 

That done, he puffed up to give the boy a scolding.

“Next time your uncle orders you to retreat before you get yourself killed, I suggest you listen to him.” He didn't mean to be so harsh, but he had been so scared.

“I'm sorry Mr. Bilbo.” Kili offered, unexpectedly contrite. “ I didn't mean to make you worry.” Bilbo is saved from replying by Thorin's hand on his arm, and a quiet voice in his ear.

“Master Baggins, you're shaking.” He let Thorin sit him down, watching as Fili took Kili aside to whisper in his ear. Kili's eyes widened, and Bilbo knew exactly what Fili had told him. The silence in which the rest of the company was regarding them was only broken when a dead orc fell through the opening of the cave. Bilbo didn't even flinch, but the dwarves around him moved forward to inspect the creature. Thorin pulled the arrow from it's neck with a sneer.

“Elves.” He turned on Gandalf. “This was your plan all along, wasn't it?”

“Thorin, stop it.” Bilbo speaks softly. “I for one could do with a warm bed and a roof over my head for a night, without having to worry about trolls or orcs or bloody wargs. Not to mention a decent bath – we're all filthy. Let's go, and let me do the talking, because you lot will find a way to offend with one word or less.” Then he made the mistake of trying to stand, and found that he was still shaky with the panic that had driven him to run to Kili's aid. Dwalin caught him before he could stumble very far.

“Easy now, Master Burglar.” He said gruffly, but not unkindly. Bilbo gave him a weak smile and managed to steady himself.

“I'm quite alright, thank you, Mister Dwalin.” Dwalin refused to dignify that with any response but a disbelieving snort, but the company began to make their way along the path into the Hidden Valley.

 

Coming to the entrance, Bilbo was as struck by the place as he always had been. It's peaceful beauty never failed to take his breath away.

“Welcome to Imladris, though in the common tongue, it has another name.” Gandalf told him, eyeing the hobbit with some concern – after all, he had seen the little outburst earlier as much as the dwarves had. But Bilbo was too full of the joy of seeing this valley once more to mind all that. He simply smiled.

“Yes, it does. This is Rivendell.”

 


	15. Welcome To Rivendell

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Alternative title: Bilbo wants a bath. And food. And does not have time for anyone who is between himself and those things.   
> Basically Bilbo is done with everyone and people should really know better than to get between a hobbit and his food.

Lindir greeted them infallibly politely, though Bilbo did not judge him for his unease around their company – after the day they’d had, it was no wonder that they must look a sight. Gandalf returned the elf’s greeting, and Bilbo was about to pipe up and do the same (it was only polite, after all), when they heard a hunting horn in the near distance, signalling the arrival of Lord Elrond and his hunting party, who came cantering in to surround the dwarves. As much as Bilbo knew the elves would not hurt them, he could not blame Thorin for his caution.

 

What never failed to amaze Bilbo about elves, as much as it sometimes irritated him, was just how childish they had the capacity to be. And he wasn’t just talking about your tra-la-la-lallying down in the valley, either. They had an unmatched childish inclination to bully those who they deemed lesser than themselves, and because they were all graceful and wise that tended to be forgotten.

 

At the moment, Bilbo was having some difficulty seeing the humour in being surrounded by what was essentially a small offensive force, quite happily taunting the dwarves with words they did not understand. He was sure at one point he heard one of them say _Sevig thû úan_ , and really, he was about to respond when Elrond started speaking to Gandalf, and ignore the dwarves completely. He clenched his teeth and tapped his foot in irritation, and if he had his pipe, he would be puffing on it impatiently right about now.

 

As it was, he cleared his throat and spoke up as loudly as he could without shouting – hobbits could be very loud when they so wished.

“You were never such a poor host in my mother’s stories, _hîr vuin Elrond._ Would you make a liar out of her, now that she’s dead?” From where he stood next to Gandalf, Elrond turned in surprise, only now noticing the hobbit. The elf who had muttered the insult at the dwarves had the grace to look chagrined when Bilbo shot him a glare, and now that he had a good look, he could see it was Elladan. Honestly, elves were such children.

“Now, if we’re all done with petty and meaningless posturing about whose fault what horrible thing in history is, it’s everyone’s and no ones, by the way – I should like a long hot soak in a bath, and a good hearty meal for weary travellers is hardly too much to ask for, I should think? Since according to this young lad, we all _smell like monsters._ ” At that he raised a pointed eyebrow towards Elladan, who had suddenly found that his horse’s mane was the most interesting thing in all the universe.

 

Elrond, to his eternal credit, was only struck speechless for a moment or two. He recovered admirably quickly from a scolding that would have cowed even the wildest Took or Brandybuck. Well, Pippin would probably just ignore him, but there would never be such another Took as Peregrin, and thinking of any of those dear children was bound to make him melancholy, so Bilbo cut the thought off even as it began.

 

“Of course, rooms shall be prepared at once for you and your friends, _periannath_ – and do my eyes deceive me, or is this Belladonna Took’s son I see before me?” The rider next to Elladan sat taller in his saddle – and Bilbo was hardly surprised to see Elrohir riding next to his brother.

“Bella had children? She died? When did all this happen?”

“A while ago now by the standards of us mere _smelly_ mortals.” Bilbo replied with a wry smile in Elrond’s sons direction. “But the blink of an eye for an elf, I’m quite sure.”

“I am saddened to hear of her passing, all the same. My children were all fond of her stories.” Elrond replied, and Bilbo did not doubt that he was sincere. “Would you do me the honour of introducing your friends? They seem rather put out by our ignoring them.”

“Of course!” Bilbo blushed, having forgotten about them in being caught up with the elves. “Lord Elrond, may I introduce the Company of Thorin Oakenshield.”

 

Thorin came to stand by him then, glaring at the elf until Bilbo elbowed him and hissed at him to behave himself, which he only did under duress.

“You have your grandfather’s bearing.” Bilbo cringed. Of all the things for Elrond to say, it had to be that. “I knew Thror, when he ruled under the mountain.”

“Indeed.” Thorin spoke through gritted teeth. “He made no mention of _you._ ” And by now Bilbo was tired and hungry and he’d had just about enough of this.

“I said _no bloody posturing_. That’s enough. We have been chased by an orc pack for no reason other than that perhaps Azog is maybe alive and wants to finish of the line of Durin once and for all, _or_ if he isn’t, maybe Bolg wants to finish his work, and outrunning a pack of orcs makes one rather tired and hungry and in need of a sodding _bath.”_ Bilbo practically dragged Thorin away from Elrond, who still seemed a little dazed at being scolded by a hobbit. “If you would be so kind as to show us the way to the guest rooms, Lindir, I would be most grateful. Since you seem to be the only one with any bloody sense around here.”

 

Lindir did of course wait until Elrond gave him a nod before doing Bilbo’s bidding, but as Lindir himself did think that no one else seemed to have any sense, that rather put Bilbo in his good books – though not so much the company of smelly and grumbling dwarves who trailed behind them.

 

Kili seemed the most fascinated with the elves, though he did not say anything. Bilbo heard Ori whispering to Dori that he would like to document their architecture in his chronicle of their journey. Bilbo smiled. At least the young ones were not so full of prejudice as their elders.

“Your rooms.” Lindir eventually said, coming to a stop in front of their accommodation. “I trust this is enough space for all of you?” Before anyone else could say anything, Bilbo inclined his head.

“These will do nicely, Lindir, _le fael._ ” The thanks earned him a small smile.

“Think nothing of it, Master hobbit. Let it not be said that Imladris is home to poor hosts.” Bilbo smiled wryly at the reference to his earlier comment.

“It’s Bilbo, or Baggins if you really insist on the formality.” Lindir bowed slightly.

“Then I take my leave to return to my duties, Master Baggins.” With as much grace as any elf, he did just that, leaving Bilbo face to face with thirteen disbelieving dwarf faces.

“I have to say,” Balin said eventually, “that I really must remember never to make an enemy of you, Master Baggins. You are fierce as a dragon on an empty stomach, it seems – and it seems like not even Thorin minded your temporary taking over of leadership back there.” Bilbo blushed all the way down to his toes when he realised what implications of his earlier actions.

“Um… oops?” he offered sheepishly. Fili laughed and grabbed him around the shouldered, messing up his hair.

“Never get between a hobbit and his food, I think we’ve all learned from this.” The blond prince told him whilst Bilbo struggled free of his grasp.

“And what was that about us smelling like monsters?” Bofur asked.

“That was what one of them said, when they were all being idiots.” Bilbo said, still trying to squirm out of Fili’s friendly chokehold.

“I didn’t know you spoke Elvish, Mister Bilbo.” Ori piped up. Bilbo bit his lip to keep from groaning in frustration. The last thing he wanted to be doing right now was teaching Sindarin to curious dwarflings.

“Yes I do, a little, but explanations and lessons can _wait_ until we are _clean_ and have had _dinner._ Understood?”

“Yes Mister Bilbo!” Ori agreed excitedly.

“Now,” Bilbo said, actually managing to break out of Fili’s arms by this point. “Does anyone else want a nice hot bath, or are you all just going to jump in the fountain and traumatize poor Lindir with your public nudity?” That earned him an all-around laugh, and they all stripped down and got into the water.

 

Bilbo hadn’t really known just how much he had missed proper heated baths until he slipped under the water, and sighed at the relief it gave his aching bones, though the layers of grime would take quite a bit of scrubbing off. But how lovely it was not to stink of troll snot – Elladan may have had a point about smelling like monsters, now that he thought about it. Across from him, Nori snorted.

 

“Reckon you might be right there, Master Burglar. But don’t let the elves know ye said it, or we’ll never hear the end of it.” It was comforting, this sort of communal bathing. He knew where everyone was, and could just soak in their presence as he soaked in the water, rather than worrying about where they all were. It was a good thing he had long ago given up being self-conscious about his body.

“Indeed.” Bilbo almost jumped at Thorin’s voice – he had not realised that the dwarf king was sitting to his right. “And I don’t know that we should have had such a smooth welcome had it not been for you, Master Baggins.”

“It really is never going to get into your head to call me Bilbo, is it?” He asked with a sigh. “I’m sure it would have been fine, but I’m afraid I got rather impatient.”

“That’s because you’ve spent too much time with Thorin!” Dwalin called over. “He’s rubbing off on you.” Bilbo rolled his eyes and splashed water in the warrior’s direction. Which apparently translated to Bilbo having started an all-out water-war, one that every one of the dwarves simply _had_ to join in. At least they were indoors this time.

 

By the time they had finished and gotten themselves dressed, Lindir arrived with the news that dinner was being served, and Lord Elrond would be honoured if they might attend. Bilbo thanked him and heard the muttered words of thanks from the kinder dwarves behind him.

 

“Remember to behave yourselves now. This is Lord Elrond’s home and it would not do to offer him insult. Those of you who had lessons in diplomacy and tact, please for the love of all the good in the world, _use what those classes taught you._ ”

“Yes, _mum._ ” He could hear Kili complaining somewhere to his left.

“Fili, please hit your brother for me.” Before Kili could protest, Fili punched his brother in the arm.

“Ow, no fair.” Kili protested loudly, trying to hit Fili in return, but his brother dodged him easily.

“Stop being a baby, Kili.” Fili replied with a grin.

 

It did not take them long to arrive in the hall where Elrond and Gandalf already sat, deep in conversation.

“My Lord Elrond, your guests have arrived.”

“Thank you Lindir.” Elrond acknowledged with a nod of his head. “Come, sit. Master Oakenshield, Master Baggins, if you would sit here?” Thorin and Bilbo shared a look. Bilbo wasn’t entirely certain of the politics, but being invited to sit at the table of a Lord seemed something of a big deal. Luckily, whilst he was trying to figure out whether or not it would be polite to decline, Thorin answered for both of them.

“We would be honoured.” And since Bilbo’s feet seemed to need a bit of prompting, Thorin guided him to sit at the table. “Now, what has Tharkûn told you?”

“That you were ambushed by trolls on the Great East Road.”

“We were, Lord Elrond.” Bilbo chipped in. “Though by the time Gandalf arrived we had already dealt with them.”

“Thanks in no small part to our very own Master Baggins. Thank the Valar he had the presence of mind to come up with a plan rather than let my nephews make up some hare-brained scheme that could have gotten us all killed.” Elrond smiled.

“The way you speak of them reminds me of my own sons – who apparently are so interested in seeing dwarves and hobbits that they are sneaking around, thinking I cannot see them.” He glanced to his right and Bilbo followed his gaze. Sure enough, out of the shadows appeared two tall and graceful shapes, whom Bilbo recognised from earlier.

 

“These are my sons, Elladan,” The first gave a smile and a small nod, “and Elrohir.” The second gave only a nod, and seemed to be less jovial than his brother.

_“Mae govannen, Elladan, Elrohir.”_ Bilbo greeted cheerfully. “I trust that we smell better now, hmm?” Elladan’s laugh was as lively as any elf’s, and it was a sound that Bilbo had not realised he had missed for the short months since his return.

“Like roses, and morning dew on a fresh spring morning, Master Baggins. I do apologize for my earlier insult. The thrill of the hunt was still singing and I rather forgot my manners.” He bowed low in apology.

“Think nothing of it. If you think I have heard nothing worse in these past few weeks, then I fear you know very little of dwarves indeed.”

“If you have sated your curiosity, _ion nin_ , I believe you have… duties to return to.” The way he said it made Bilbo curious, but he knew better than to ask. The twins left, but not before Bilbo heard Kili challenge them to an archery contest.

 

“Mithrandir tells me that you found weapons of elvish make in the troll’s hoard.”

“Yes.” Bilbo replied. Gandalf handed over his sword first. Elrond studied the blade intently, evidently amazed to be holding such a relic of his people.

“This is _Glamdring_ ,” Elrond told them as he turned it reverently in his hands, “the foe-hammer, forged by the High-Elves of Gondolin, my kin.” He then handed it back to Gandalf, who took it very carefully.

Both hobbit and wizard had to more or less bully Thorin with disapproving looks before he would part with his sword to allow Elrond to examine it, which he did with great care.

“This is _Orcrist,_ the Goblin-Cleaver.” As it was bound to prove in the Misty Mountains, Bilbo thought a little bitterly, “May it serve you well, Thorin Oakenshield.” Thorin inclined his head in deference to Elrond’s words, and Bilbo thought that his earlier words about tact had gotten through that dwarfish skull. Or perhaps both parties were simply afraid once more inciting a hobbit’s wrath. Hardly likely, now that he was clean and there was food before them. Now, would it be rude to start before the others? Surely he could take just one bite of a rather delicious looking freshly baked loaf.

 

“Master Baggins, may I see your blade also? It appears to be of elvish make.” Lord Elrond’s question startled him about his food-addled thoughts, and he handed it over without a word of complaint, though-

“I do not think it is anything so grand as the others, _hîr vuin_.” He told him modestly. Elrond smiled as he took the blade – only a dagger in anyone’s hands but a hobbit’s – and examined it closely.

“Perhaps it has not yet done great deeds, but shall come to them in time.” Bilbo tried to smile at Elrond’s words, but his heart wasn’t really in it. Not when he knew who would wield it after him, and what that would mean for poor Frodo, dear lad. He took his sword back and sheathed it.

“Perhaps you are right. But in any case, that’s enough of that – there is food at this table and we are wasting time chattering which could be used to eat.” Without waiting for so much as a by-your-leave, Bilbo tucked into his dinner – and a very nice dinner it was too. Though there were no meats, they were served heartier fare than mere salad, and the dwarves began singing cheery song, Bofur dancing atop the table – though they managed not to throw their food everywhere, thank goodness. They were given a glass of wine, and elvish wine is always strong, so Bilbo had barely a sip. He still felt warm and fuzzy, but not to the extent the dwarves clearly were. Some of the younger elves who had gathered in the surrounding trees sang along, adding their own words and harmonies, and this continued into the night.

Bilbo slipped out for a quiet moment with his pipe, wandering the meandering paths towards the gardens, which would be quiet, if not deserted by this time. On his way, he came across someone not quite as tall as a hobbit, but definitely not an elfling. Here before him was a child of man – and not just any, by his looks. He’d stumbled across Aragorn, son of Arathorn, and Isildur’s heir, only this was him before he was king, before he was even a ranger. This was Aragorn as a boy, as Elrond’s adopted son. And before Bilbo could decide what, if anything, he should do about it, the boy gave him the widest smile, with the most innocent little eyes, and he felt the uncle in him truly wake up for the first time in a long while.

“Why, hello there, my lad. I’m Bilbo Baggins – what might your name be?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, so I might have had entirely too much fun with this chapter, but I've had a pretty crazy week and I suppose I kind of just used Bilbo to vent a bit of my own frustration. Anyway, it was very cathartic and all that. But here's a chapter, and one that's nearly 3000 words to boot. BB!Aragorn will be precious (I'm going with the age he would be according to the books, rather than the movie because the movie is wrong and BB!Aragorn is cuter than 20-something Aragorn, or however old the movie pretends he is. And I say baby but I mean like ten.)
> 
> Just forewarning you, we may be in Rivendell for a few chapters because I really like it here. All the fun characters are here. 
> 
> Oh, and since I have been asked this a fair few times on separate occasions, and I will probably be asked again - there will be NO PAIRINGS in this fic, mainly because the story I want to tell is not a romance. Kiliel may creep into later chapters as a kind of side-note, but there will be no sexy-times and no real pairings in this particular story. There are already very good time-travel fics with pairings out there if you would like to read them.


	16. Kings, Rings, Letters and Things

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bilbo meets Aragorn, has a chat with Elrond, dithers over whether to open his brother's letter and gets roped into learning how to use his letter-opener properly. Hugs with dwarf princes are also had.

And with those large innocent eyes, ignorant of the heavy fate that would come to rest on his shoulders, a shadow of which Bilbo could almost see, even now, the child blinked up at him.

“Adar says I shouldn’t speak to strangers.” Bilbo nodded – very sound parenting technique, that. Only problem with it was that fauntlings never really listened to it. And he supposed it didn’t altogether matter around hobbits as no one was really a stranger in the first place.

“Well, I’m sure that’s very wise of him, but we’re not strangers anymore – I’ve introduced myself after all.” The boy frowned, thinking over the question. “And,” Bilbo added, “I doubt your Adar would leave you to wander the halls by yourself at night, especially not if there are strangers about. Which leaves me to think that you escaped whomever was looking after you to come and sneak a peek at us visitors.” The silent guilty look he got in return was answer enough, and was one that Bilbo was very familiar with, especially when it came to a pair of troublemakers from the Took and Brandybuck families. He held out his hand to the boy, which he took reluctantly.

“Well then, come along and we’ll wander together, and if you want to ask me anything about hobbits, I would be more than happy to answer you. And then maybe in return you could give me a name?”

“The elfs call me Estel.” He answered, shy and quiet – in so many ways like dear Frodo in his early childhood.

“ _Elves_ , dear.” Bilbo corrected gently, almost without thinking. “Very well then, Estel, what would you like to know about hobbits?”

The child perked up at this, and as they wandered into the gardens, asked many questions, about how much hobbits ate, how many children did hobbits have, what sort of government did they have, and that sort of thing.

 

They sat down on a bench in the centre of the gardens, and little Estel fell asleep to stories of the Shire and its rolling hills. Which rather left Bilbo with the problem of what to do with him. He certainly couldn’t just leave the boy out by himself, and he was just about small enough for him to carry, so with some effort, he heaved the sleeping child into his arms, and went about trying to find an elf.

 

He found Elrond leaning out over the balcony in the room which contained the shards of Narsil, and the painting which depicted the battle between Sauron and Isildur. He wondered if the elf spent as much time in here as Bilbo used to spend staring at his map, wishing he could have done something more to stop or save his friend.

“Lord Elrond?” he inquired softly, a little out of puff from the stairs he had climbed with the child in his arms. The elf lord was startled out of whatever reverie he had indulged in by the hobbit’s voice.

“Is there something you need, Master Baggins?”

“No, but I did find a little lost lamb.” He said, and Elrond turned, seeing Estel in the hobbit’s arms. He smiled fondly and took Estel easily from Bilbo’s weary arms.

“Thank you, Master Baggins. I shall have to have words with my sons about letting our charge out of their sight.”

“Oh, he was no trouble. Wanted to know everything there was to know about hobbits. I hope you don’t mind that I told him a bedtime story.” Elrond’s features softened into a rare smile.

“Not at all, Master Baggins. In fact, if you would rather not stay with the dwarves, Rivendell will always be open to you, and a new storyteller is always appreciated.” Bilbo smiled, but shook his head.

“No, as much as I appreciate the offer, I signed a contract, and to back out would be cowardly. These dwarves are my friends, strange as that might seem to an elf.”

“Not so strange.” Elrond replied softly. “Our races have been friends in the past.”

“And yet you all let old prejudices colour your judgement now.” Bilbo replied, before glancing to the painting on the wall. “It seems such a little thing, to have caused so much grief.” He muttered to himself, but the elf caught his words nonetheless, and sighed, before kissing the top of Estel’s sleeping head.

“Indeed it does. But the sway of little rings – or stones, should not be underestimated, Master Baggins.” Bilbo smiled sadly and looked between the painting and the sword.

“I understand that you don’t trust Thorin not to fall to the gold-madness of his line, but that dwarf is my friend, and if it is in my power to save him from himself, if it comes to that, then I will. You worry about keeping that boy safe, and remember that sons are not their fathers, or for that matter, their long dead ancestors.” Bilbo said, ruffling Aragorn’s hair. “May you live to see a time of peace and happiness throughout Arda, dear lad.” The elf lord seemed shocked enough by his words that he did not try to stop him from leaving or attempt to further their conversation.

 

He left Estel in Elrond’s care and made his way back to his room, where all of the dwarves were already sleeping. He took a free bed in the corner but found that he could not sleep, for the Ring was heavy in his thoughts this night. He kept thinking of the destiny he would deprive Aragorn and the rest of the Fellowship with if he were to attempt to destroy the Ring himself. Not to mention, would he even be able to? Or was its destruction some fixed point in history?

 

He turned over for what must have been at least the fifteenth time, but still sleep would not come. He sat up again, thinking that perhaps another walk might do him some good, when he saw that Bifur was awake and staring at him.

“Sorry, did I wake you?” Bilbo whispered, but Bifur shook his head and pointed to the axe in his forehead, which must have been causing him pain. “Oh.” Bifur patted the ground by his side, and Bilbo readily came to sit by him, listening as he spoke in the language of dwarves, catching words he recognised here and there, and soon found that he really was quite tired, and all this fretting about rings and kings really could wait for another day.

 

The sun had not yet risen when he awoke, and the dwarves were still clearly suffering from unconsciousness by way of elven wine, so he carefully slipped out of Bifur’s one armed embrace (he felt not a lick embarrassed by the fact he had been cuddling with the dwarf. Sometimes you needed comfort, and that was that).

 

His pack, sitting in the corner of the room, had caught his eye. Since there was no pressing matters – they would be here at least until midsummer, which gave them two weeks, or near enough, to rest and stock up on supplies. And Bilbo had all the time he might need to read his letter. So he took it in his hands, turned it over a few times, before taking a deep breath and promptly deciding that he didn’t actually want to open it yet. What if it contained nothing of actual importance? What if it did, and it was vital that he open it at a certain point in the quest? He tucked it away into his pack once more – too afraid to listen to what the ghost of his long-dead brother might have to say to him.

 

His tired sigh after he did so was apparently enough to wake Gloin, who up until a moment previously had been as deaf to the world as his brother.

“Somethin’ troubling ye, laddie?” he asked, with a voice full of fatherly concern. Bilbo shook his head.

“Oh, it’s nothing. Only everything seems too still and peaceful, after all the noise we’ve had of late. I don’t quite trust it.” Gloin hummed thoughtfully at his words.

“Aye, ye’ve more of a warrior’s spirit than I might have granted, afore the incident with the trolls.”

“Aye,” came Dwalin’s approval from the other side of the room. Apparently not all of the dwarves were quite as incapacitated by elvish wine as Bilbo had previously thought, “And yer quick thinkin’ with Kili, to boot.”

“Well, I-”

“But,” Dwalin continued, “Spirit alone won’t save ye if ye dinnae learn how tae use that letter-opener.” Ah, he had wondered how long it would take for them to give his sword that particular moniker once again.

“For a hobbit, it is a perfectly respectably sized sword, Master Dwalin, thank you very much.” He puffed up indignantly, as insulted hobbits are wont to do. Dwalin merely chuckled at him, and Gloin smiled indulgently.

“You know, my Gimli always gets frightful worked up every time someone so much as breathed in a way that he perceived as an insult.” Bilbo smiled warmly, reminded of one of Frodo’s dear friends.

“And he sounds like a fine young dwarf.” Bilbo said, “Though he must be younger than Fili and Kili both, if he was not allowed on this quest.”

“Aye,” Gloin admitted ruefully, “And if he wasn’t downright mulish about it, too. Only his mother’s endless patience wore him down enough to see us off on the quest.” Bilbo smiled again, until the dwarves combined attention returned to him.

“So, as you’re less experience with blades than with your bow –” Gloin began

-“We’re of a mind to be teaching ye, if ye’ve nowt better t’do.” Bilbo briefly thought of telling them that he might in fact have suddenly realised he had something of great importance to be getting on with, when he heard a laugh from the doorway, and realised that Thorin must have already have been up and about before the rest of them, for he was leaning against it, fully dressed, with his hair neatly braided for once. Bilbo supposed he felt he had something to prove to these elves.

 

“You look like a cornered rabbit, Master Baggins. However, I could do with your aid in a matter requiring – how did you put it again, _diplomacy and tact_? Something that elves feel we lack – an assumption likely not discouraged by the behaviour of some of our company last night.”

Bilbo frowned.

“What on Arda did I miss?” By the way it made Thorin wince, Bilbo guessed that it might be something scandalous involving his nephews – a suspicion that was proved correct a moment later when Thorin answered.

“Kili may have been somewhat… amorous towards a few elves.”

“He… how much wine did they let him drink?” Bilbo asked despairingly. “And more importantly, how much damage control do I need to do?”

 

Gloin and Dwalin looked a great deal put out by the loss of their potential pupil, but Thorin was already half-dragging Bilbo away from them.

“So, thank you for getting me out of lessons – wait, Thorin why do you have that look on your face?”

“No one was actually offended by Kili’s antics. They found him rather charming, apparently.” The dwarf king admitted, shrugging.

“Then what-” Bilbo asked, but Thorin shushed him with a wave of his hand.

“I have not seen much of you since we arrived here, beyond dinner. I merely wondered where you had gone.”

“I wandered for a time. It took me a while to sleep.”

“Bifur mentioned, when I returned to find you asleep on him.” Bilbo hummed thoughtfully at that, wondering where Thorin might have wandered off to himself. “What troubled you so?” The dwarf king asked, and Bilbo shrugged.

“I was restless, is all.” Bilbo insisted, though he could tell Thorin was not convinced. Thankfully though, the dwarf king decided to drop the subject.

“Dwalin is right, though.” He mused, glancing to Bilbo’s sword. “You need to learn to use that properly. And as thankful as I am for Kili’s safety, your rush to rescue him was rather careless.”

“I wasn’t exactly thinking of anything except not – not letting what happened to-“ Bilbo struggled to get the words out, and Thorin’s hand was suddenly a comforting presence on the back of his neck, whilst the dwarf pressed their foreheads together.

“Hush, Bilbo, I know this. I know that you feel, in your gentlehobbit heart, for reasons I cannot fathom, a desire to protect us. But might you also understand that we – my company and I, are coming to see you as a dear friend who we also wish to protect?” Bilbo’s breath hitched slightly at that revelation. Thorin’s eyes softened in something which might be pity, or sympathy, Bilbo wasn’t quite sure. “You are a strange creature, Master Baggins, to act as you did yesterday, with such confidence, and to be flustered by the thought of being cared about the very next day.” He removed his hand and studied the hobbit for a long moment, making Bilbo increasingly more uncomfortable.

“Whatever still troubles you, I find it sometimes helps to spar – the thoughts might be knocked out of you that way.” Thorin suggested as they walked back to their rooms. Bilbo groaned in despair. Apparently training wasn’t something so easily escaped from. Confounded dwarves.

 

When they returned, Dwalin and Gloin had already set up a makeshift practice field outside their rooms

“With full permission from the dratted elf lord, if that eases your worry.” Thorin assured him. Bilbo huffed and gave him a little sidelong glare, to which Thorin replied with a chuckle. “Dwalin will help you work on your stance, and afterwards, if you’ve any strength left, Fili can help you with your knife throwing, seeing as it needs some work.” The dwarf king dodged the punch Bilbo aimed at him easily. “And evidently we shall need to improve your atrocious hand-to-hand… I can’t even call it skills, really, you’re simply terrible.” Bilbo huffed, but honestly, he felt much better now that his mind was on the teasing, rather than what it was on before – which had no doubt been Thorin’s plan in the first place.

“Insufferable dwarf” he grumbled as he was more or less shoved towards Dwalin.

“Incorrigible hobbit” Thorin shot back with a grin.

The rest of the company had gathered around. Apparently, he was to be their morning’s entertainment as he was no doubt drilled extensively on how to hold a bloody sword. Admittedly all he had known before was to stick them with the pointy end and try not to lose hold of the damned thing, but back then none of the dwarves had really thought he might make a difference, and afterwards, there had never really been time to be taught. He supposed that this was probably better, though he was likely to be sore and tired before Dwalin and Gloin were done with him.

 

Oddly enough, the dwarf whose eyes he noticed on him the most whilst Dwalin spent hours patiently correcting his stance and showing him how to properly strike and block, was Kili. He hadn’t really had a chance to speak to the boy since rescuing him, so he made a note to do so once this torture had finished.

“Alright, I think that’s enough to be getting on with.” Dwalin decided after a couple of hours. “You’re getting the gist of it, better’n most beginners, and we want ye t’be able to use those arms tomorrow.”

“You mean we’re doing _more_ of this?” Bilbo couldn’t help complaining, but the balding dwarf merely chuckled and tried to ruffle his hair, which Bilbo ducked away from, much to the amusement of their audience.

“Need t’work at it till it’s muscle memory, laddie. Can’t be thinkin’ when yer strikin’ in a real battle.” Bilbo huffed a weary sigh, put his sword away and stretched his arms, and all too soon was bombarded by the youngest Durins.

“Knife practice time, Bilbo!” He groaned, earning what must have been the hundredth laugh from their audience. The others now were beginning to get hungry, so wandered off in search of lunch, leaving only Bilbo, Fili and Kili behind. The hobbit raised an eybrow.

 

“Careful lads, or I might think you planned this.” He teased. The brothers looked to each other a little guiltily.

“Well, Mister Boggins-“ Kili began, before Bilbo interrupted.

“Bilbo, I don’t know how many times I’ll have to say it until it gets into your rock-thick skulls, but call me Bilbo, for goodness sake, lad.” He insisted.

“Bilbo,” Fili said to placate him. “What Kili was about to say is that he’s really sorry for making a stupid decision that caused you – and me, by the way, Kili – a significant amount of worry.”

“Yeah, that.” Kili agreed, looking admittedly quite sheepish. “I only… I wanted to be useful. I thought if I could get at least one of them-“ Kili trailed off, shrugging. “I don’t know what I thought. But I’ll be more careful. I didn’t mean to make you relive any bad memories.” Bilbo’s mouth was dry, and he didn’t know whether to laugh or cry, because this entire journey he had been reliving memories, good and bad and in between. Memories that lead in the first instance to the deaths of three very dear friends – memories he would do anything to avoid becoming reality for a second time.

 

So he did what he’d wanted to do for a long while and pulled both of them into a hug, though his arms did not quite reach around them as far as he would like, holding them close.

“Oh, Kili lad.” He whispered with a catch in his throat as both the dwarf princes held him just as close. “You just keep yourself safe, and don’t worry about little old me.” He heard Kili start to sniffle. “Oh hush, don’t act like such a fauntling. It’s alright, dear lad. We’re all quite safe here.” He soothed, and eventually they all let go. “All sorted?” he enquired softly, and Kili wiped his eyes and gave a small nod. “There we are then.”

 

“Knife lessons?” Fili prompted after it became clear no one else was going to break the silence. Bilbo startled a little, then nodded gratefully.

“That sounds like a good idea, Fili. And Kili, what’s this I hear about your amorous intentions towards some unsuspecting elves?” He laughed and dodged the half-hearted punch Kili sent his way.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Look! yet another chapter, so soon after the last - and a fairly long one at that. Also I may go back and give the rest of the chapters titles. If I can be bothered.
> 
> And look at that, we are hardly any closer to leaving Rivendell. Maybe Bilbo will just stay here forever. There is at least one more elf I would quite like him to meet, perhaps two. And of course the company has to have their map read, despite the fact Bilbo knows exactly what's on it. Oh and I had a bit of a eureka moment as far as something a bit farther ahead in the plot goes, so I'm super excited about that, despite the fact it's probably at least seven or eight chapters away.
> 
> Also - and I meant to say this last time but I completely forgot - I am overwhelmed by how much people enjoy this story. When I started, I never expected to get this far in writing it, let alone to have over 17,000 views, over 700 kudos, nearly 550 subscribers, 300 bookmarks (including the private ones) or 200 comments - though really it'd be about 100 because I always try to reply. Just thank you all for coming along on this journey with me and sticking with it so far, despite the fact that my updates are woefully sporadic in nature.
> 
> Every time someone tells me something like "I needed this chapter today" I always feel so honoured, because whatever bad thing happened in their day, my story cheered them up, even just a little, and there's something magical in that.  
> So I might be slow, but I won't ever stop writing this until it's done, because if this can help even one person through a difficult day, then it's so very worth it, and I appreciate every one of you, whether you comment or bookmark or give me kudos, even if you just read it and forget or can't be bothered to do any of the rest, thank you for taking the time out of your day to read this ever lengthening tale of friendship and silliness and more than occasional angst and sadness. 
> 
> Thank you, everyone, and happy Easter if I don't update again before then, if you celebrate it, if not, then happy Spring Break or whatever other holidays there might be to celebrate. :D


	17. New Elves and Old

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bilbo meets another elf, who has a mysterious letter for him - who could it be from?  
> (and what is it for me and having letters for Bilbo?)

They did actually manage to get some knife practice in, after the general larking about had toned down, before their growling stomachs reminded all three of them that they were going to be late for lunch.

 

If he were being entirely honest, Bilbo didn’t think his aching muscles could be convinced to even get him to the next corridor, never mind the kitchens, but they did make it there eventually. They ate well and for the most part the dwarves managed to behave in a civil manner towards their hosts, to Bilbo’s unending relief. Lord Elrond was not among them this time, but Gandalf was, and Bilbo found himself effectively cornered by the wizard whilst the dwarves made merry – though not as rowdily as at dinner. The elves had learned their lesson and there was a distinct lack of alcohol on offer.

 

“My dear Bilbo,” Gandalf began, in a tone that made Bilbo wonder whether he was worried or proud, “you have more than surpassed what I might have expected of you.”

“Yes, well-” Bilbo began, doing his best to look flustered, “I’m only doing what’s right. It’s all very well to sit around in a cosy armchair and read stories of someone else’s adventures when you’re snug and safe in your own little hobbit hole, but these dwarves don’t have that – and I want to help them get it back, if I can. A home that is – I’m not entirely sure whether or not dwarves go in for such things as armchairs”

 

“Hmmm.” The wizard pondered his words for a while, before nodding to himself, as if he’d just made a very important decision. “Very well, Master Baggins. Keep your secrets. I’ve no doubt you will have need of them in the times ahead.” _Oh Gandalf,_ Bilbo thought, _you don’t know the half of it._

“I don’t suppose you have any Old Toby, or Longbottom Leaf, do you? I’ve been meaning to practice my smoke-rings, and I have a feeling that Nori may have pocketed what little pipeweed I had left.” Gandalf chuckled and dug into his robes to hand the hobbit a small pouch of pipeweed, which was very definitely Old Toby by the smell of it. Bilbo smiled. “Thank you, Gandalf.” He took out his pipe and puffed away. He liked the comfort it gave him, and he hoped that he managed to keep enough of it that he could be reminded of home even when they were as far east as Erebor.

 

As he watched the dwarves, he found himself unexpectedly thinking of Dain Ironfoot, and the dwarves of the Iron Hills, and regretted that he did not know more of what history they had with Thorin and his Company. As for why they wouldn’t come to Thorin’s aid, Bilbo suspected it was as much to do with the hulking great dragon asleep upon a mound of gold as anything else. After all, what ruler would be stupid enough to send his people head-first into the abode of a fire-wyrm? Oh wait a minute – Thorin II _Bloody Great Idiot_ Oakenshield, that’s who. And Gandalf had claimed _Dain_ was the less reasonable one? The more he thought on it, the more foolhardy their quest seemed, and the smarter everyone else seemed for avoiding it. But Bilbo pushed away such thoughts, for they were the thoughts of a grumpy and bitter old man, and Bilbo had to remember that he was young again now, and he might as well appreciate that while it lasted. But it still got him to thinking about Lords and Kings and Bowmen that would have to work together in future, and he hoped to the Valar that he would be able to wrangle it again. Even if it meant he had to deal with the temptations of the Ring – he was no fool, he knew it would have an easier time with him, now that he was old and full of regret and no small amount of ambition. It would whisper that his friends would be safe if only he trusted it – even now he could hear it, a fell echo of memory.

 

So deep in thought was he that he did not notice the hatted dwarf sit by his side until Bofur coughed to gain his attention.

“There you are! You’re here, but your eyes were wanderin’ further fields, or mining deeper gems, as my granddam used t’ say.”

“Did she now?” Bilbo managed a small smile at that. Bofur’s cheer seemed infectious, and it helped bring Bilbo back to the present.

“Aye – so what’s got you thinking so hard, Master Bilbo?”

“Oh hush, it’s just Bilbo, you lot should know that by now.” He protested, and Bofur smiled, but would not be so easily.

“Aye, but you’ve become a favourite of our king and princes, see” Bofur informed him, whilst wrapping an arm around Bilbo’s shoulder, “and see, some other more common folks may be feeling a mite left out of all the friendly shenanigans, y’see?” Now, Bilbo, who had not noticed any such thing until it was pointed out to him, felt awfully embarrassed. “Now, Bilbo, nobody’s too sore about it, and it’s a mite hard to get to be knowing thirteen new folks all at once – but sit and chat wi’ old Bofur a while, and we’ll count it towards your score, aye?” Unable to do much more than nod dumbly, Bilbo agreed. The grin that spread over Bofur’s face at that was infectious, and Bilbo found himself smiling at the dwarf in return.

“Well then, Bofur,” Bilbo began, “what would you like to chat about?”

 

Quite a lot, as it turned out – Bilbo enjoyed listening to Bofur describe the time where he was working a coal mine and found an honest to goodness emerald instead which kept him and his fed for a good few months, and was regaled with tales of he and his brother and cousin in their youth.

“I’d nearly been forgetting t’ thank you for no bein’ too bothered by Bifur and his ways. A lot of folks who don’t know him is put off a bit, y’see. Or they think because he can’t speak like them that he can’t understand ‘em, neither. Y’ don’t know how glad I am that yer no like them. He has to put up with enough utter rot from strangers, see.” Bilbo smiled sadly. He could remember very little from his oldest years, but well did he recall the frustration he felt at not being able to get across his meaning properly, and the pitying looks the elves would send his way. He wasn’t losing his mind, damn them, he was losing his _words_.

“Oh, really, Bofur, it’s nothing. I’ve become very fond of you all, coming even this far as a company, and that includes all of your particular quirks and eccentricities. Like your propensity for bursting out into songs that are entirely inappropriate for an elven lord’s dinner table.” Bilbo replied, and when Bofur gave him a gentle shove in response, Bilbo shoved right back.

 

Lunch carried on, and as the dwarves returned to their quarters to plot and plan and take stock of their supplies, or whatever it was that they got up to, Bilbo took to wandering again, and found, in place of yesterday’s wandering child, the face of Glorfindel.

 

“Well met, Master Hobbit.” The elf greeted. “Lord Elrond is perplexed by you.”

“Well met indeed,” Bilbo huffed. “And if he is perplexed it is his own fault for only seeing the fault of the fathers in the sons where no such fault exists.”

“But what of grandfathers?” Glorfindel prodded, “Or do you believe Oakenshield to be above the madness of his line?” Bilbo sighed and shook his head.

“He has the potential to fall to it, that much is true. But believing in him and supporting him is more productive that simply waiting for him to fall. Besides, if he falls to it, I will know.”

“Have you such great insight into the minds of dwarves? After travelling with them for such a short time?”

Bilbo folded his arms and huffed.

“And you, Master Glorfindel, have you such great insight into fighting a Balrog, though you have not met one in this lifetime?” Glorfindel blinked and stared at Bilbo for so long that the hobbit felt like now would be a good time for the universe to swallow him whole right that very second for being such a loose tongued fool. But then the elf did something altogether unexpected and laughed at him, though not unkindly.

“Well, Bilbo Baggins, it appears the dwarves are in good hands. And, in that case, this arrived from the Greenwood some months ago. I think you might find it enlightening.”

Bilbo took the letter and unfolded it. It was written in elvish script, but roughly translated read as follows:

 

_Master Barrel Rider,_

_I hope this missive finds you and the company well, and that it reaches you by the time you reach Imladris – I must confess to a lack of knowledge as to the exact timescale of your journey._

_This may sound mad to you, but I feel that of all the company, you shall take my warning best, for dwarves are a stubborn and prideful bunch – though that does not make them any less dear to us, does it? And you are open and kind and warm, and you came with them because you have a home and they do not, and you will help them win it back in any way you can._

_Keep Kili safe if it is within your power – I cannot hand his grieving mother that runestone again. I cannot look upon his likeness carved in stone, so still and cold. There was too much green in him, too much new to be felled in battle. There was such sadness in you at their deaths – I could see it in your eyes, and regret that we never spoke in that life, but you loved those dwarves as dearly as I love Kili, they were family to you. You mourned as I did, but not just for Kili, for his brother and uncle too. If I was allowed back for my grief, why should you be any different?_

_Tauriel_

_May the Valar keep you in these strange times, and may we meet in friendship and not confusion._

Bilbo read through the missive three times before he was convinced of its words.

“It’s- it’s not just me. Thank the Valar – Tauriel too, well, that is something. Do you have some parchment, and a quill? I must send her a reply.”

Glorfindel grinned. “I can do better than that – you can have a chat with the raven she convinced to come here.”

 

Whilst it wasn’t any of the ravens he had met before, it was odd to see one of the ravens of Erebor again. He drafted out his letter with it perching over the parchment to see what he was writing – it had some rather insulting things to say about his handwriting, too, but he eventually finished it to his satisfaction:

 

_Dear wonderful, terrifying archer lady,_

_I’ll know you by your face, though I shall happily see it in joy rather than grief. I’ll protect my dwarves with all I have and then some – you (and your king and Bard, once) know the lengths to which I would go to save them from themselves. There are older evils beginning to stir, be vigilant, brave daughter of the greenwood! Steel your heart against sorrow, I shall tell you all I can when next we meet, for I know you did not long survive Kili’s death and so there is much I might tell you of what is to come. Oh but to know I am not alone, dear lady, gives me such joy, and humbly I shall beg your friendship. Oh, to look upon a face I have known that knows mine also! A blessing indeed._

_The Burglar,_

_And kindly stop reminding me of that awful ride down the river. I caught myself a nasty cold, so I did._

 

Bilbo gave the raven some salted meat that he happened to still have in his pocket and bid them return to the one who sent them, bidding them to fly fast and safe. He watched them take wing with a heart much lighter than before. Glorfindel merely smiled and bowed his head.

“We must look out for another, we who have lived before.” He told Bilbo before taking his leave.

 

Bilbo hurried to where the dwarves were all waiting for him. Thorin’s arms were folded and there was something in the glint of his eye that made Bilbo think of Kili at his most mischevious. Thinking about it, he really should have turned tail right then and sought refuge in the library, but alas, he was too naïve.

“Bilbo, you’re late.” Thorin admonished. Bilbo didn’t think that saying _my apologies but I ended up having a bit of a chat with a reincarnated elf that fought a Balrog and had a letter for me from Thranduil’s captain of the guard who is in love with Kili_ would have gone down particularly well, and he didn’t want to spoil their absurdly chipper moods.

“Late for what, exactly?” He asked carefully, his eyes darting to each dwarf in turn – Dwalin had a bit of a smirk, but no one was giving anything away.

“Round two of your training, of course.” Thorin replied, and Bilbo wanted to wipe that ridiculously satisfied smirk off his daft dwarfy face.

 

The training took up the whole afternoon and by the end of it, when the last light was fading from the sky, Bilbo was so tired and numb that he fell right off to sleep, far easier than the night before. Dwalin and Gloin shared a look with each other as they listened to the burglar’s soft snores, silently congratulating each other for a job well done. They weren’t to know that it was as much from relief as it was from exhaustion.

 

“Are you two going to grin all day about how well your clever and conniving plan to help Bilbo get some rest worked, or are you going to get this lump of a hobbit off me?” Thorin hissed, and Dwalin bit his lip to keep from laughing and waking Bilbo up.

“I think he looks comfy right where he is, cousin.” And Bilbo was – for you see, he had fallen asleep listening to Thorin telling stories of Erebor before the fall, and quite by accident, had done so leaning against Thorin’s shoulder.

“Aye,” Gloin agreed, looking altogether too pleased with himself for Thorin’s liking, “if we were to move him now, who’s to say he’ll manage to get back to sleep? He’s had a rough time of it, being a hobbit amongst us rowdy dwarves, beating off wargs and orcs and for all his tenacity, he’s only a wee laddie in a big world that he seems content to carry on his shoulders all day and night. Let him have his rest where he can. The circles under his eyes are worse than _yours_ , Thorin, and that’s saying something.”

 

Thorin turned to look at the hobbit in question and noticed that Gloin was right, for all that Bilbo looked peaceful, he also looked very tired, as if he hadn’t slept for days. Thorin ran the hand that wasn’t pinned to his side by a sleeping hobbit through his hair in exasperation.

“Well, he’ll sleep better in his bed than sitting here.” Thorin decided, lifting the hobbit with very little trouble – and it crossed his mind that hobbits should probably not be as light as this, though they hardly had the luxury of elevensies and second-breakfast on a quest. Bilbo didn’t as much as stir, but he did snuggle closer to Thorin in his sleep. Even when Thorin went to put him down to his bed, it was somewhat of a chore to pry the clinging hobbit off of him.

“You are ridiculous, my friend – a ridiculous sleep snuggler. And I wish I knew how to help you, how to make those frown lines disappear. And I know what you would say if you were awake, that my simply being alive and safe is enough, but it isn’t, is it? You shan’t be satisfied until we have our mountain, our home, and you can feed us all seven meals a day, seven days a week. I cannot say I understand why you care so for us all, but I wish that you knew how important you have become to us, to everyone in the company. If anything were to happen to you, Bilbo, because you were trying to protect us, I could not forgive myself – but what use is telling you this now, when you cannot hear it? But if I knew you could hear me, the words would not come so easily, not if I practiced them a thousand times. Hobbits were not meant for such perils as we have and shall face, and yet you have plunged into them anyways, with nary a thought to your own safety. But how can you know that your easy kindness and your warmth have brought memories back to me that I had buried long ago from grief. You have brought Frerin’s smile back to me, and the echo of his laugh, when it was long lost to silence and emptiness.”

There was a murmur from where Bilbo was now snuggled in his bed, clutching his pillow against his chest in place of Thorin. The dwarf barely made out that he was saying; “I am glad to have shared in your perils. It is more than any Baggins deserves.”

 

“Bilbo? Are you awake?” Thorin waved his hand in front of the hobbit’s face, but he was still very clearly asleep, but evidently some of Thorin’s words had filtered through to whatever Bilbo was dreaming about.

“Very well, I shall leave you to your rest.” Thorin decided, bending to kiss Bilbo’s brow. “Sleep well, little brother.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay so I am terrible at keeping to a schedule, but you lot have been following this story for so long that I am quite sure you already know that. I can only apologize.
> 
> In the past few months I have managed to pass my third year of uni (can I get a hallelujah?) and I have gotten myself a little volunteer job at a local charity shop (which has been great so far even if the card machine is evil. I can just about manage the ancient temperamental till, but I hope and pray that people don't want to pay by card when I am on the till)
> 
> So! Bilbo isn't the only one to be back. To be honest, I hadn't planned on this, but then I had some Tauriel feelings and was like "well she and Bilbo would make an awesome team let's make this happen"
> 
> And Bilbo is a cuddle monster in his sleep. I kind of based that off how I am when I'm sleepy - or drunk. Cuddles for everyone. And Thorin talking about feelings and being somewhat coherent - will the wonders never cease? And also I have a bit of a thing for familial kisses and affection, in case you couldn't tell.
> 
> Hope you all enjoyed, and I hope I don't make you wait too long for the next chapter.


	18. Farewell to Rivendell

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> And with this chapter we finally leave the elves behind - but not before the map is read, or before Bilbo gets a bit more training.

The next week or so passed peaceably enough, with very little in the way of dwarf-elf animosity, which Bilbo thought was mostly owed to the fact that both parties had found amusement in the training of a hobbit in the arts of combat. Once the elves had observed the company’s impromptu training sessions, of course they wanted to give their own advice – they couldn’t be outdone by dwarves, could they?

 

So Bilbo spent his mornings being tutored in archery by Elrohir and Elladan, who looked to him to be far too gleeful in their punishing regime. He was, however, grateful for their expertise, and whilst his aim had always been decent, the strength in his arm needed for a more powerful draw had been sorely lacking. The afternoons he spent with Gloin and Dwalin, usually, and he could block and parry passably enough, though he could never hope to match these dwarves who had trained their whole lives in the art of battle. And the evenings usually alternated between the Urs and the Ris. He would spend time having Bofur and Bombur teach him the language of signs that the dwarves used, so that he might better communicate with their cousin. And he spent much time with Ori pouring over the history of Erebor and its place amongst the other dwarf kingdoms. He also allowed Dori to fuss over him and admonish him for reckless behaviour, and if he was honest he rather appreciated it. Nori he mostly gave knowing looks when he saw him pocketing knickknacks out of elvish pockets, though he never mentioned it to the thief’s brothers. There was a camaraderie in their shared occupation, honour among thieves and all that.

 

After these quiet evenings, Bilbo would often wander around Rivendell, and sometimes his path would cross Thorin’s. Somehow they both sensed that the other needed some time of their own to think, after spending the day surrounded by others, so they would merely nod to each other and then be on their way. They had settled into something of a routine at Rivendell, and Bilbo knew that would make it all the harder to leave when they eventually had to. After his walks, he would retire to bed, thoroughly exhausted, and he would wake bright and early the next morning – ready to start the whole routine again. That lasted until Bilbo woke in the middle of the night with a sense of calm that had before then escaped him for the longest time – so he took a moment to enjoy it. And then he realised that someone was shaking him awake, drat it all.

 

Blearily he opened his eyes to find Fili looking curiously down at him.

“Uncle says Elrond’s going to try and read the map now. He didn’t want to wake you, but Gandalf said it might be better if you were there, to um…”

“Stop your uncle putting his foot in it?” Bilbo replied with a wry smile, shoving his covers to the side and forcing himself to get up. Fili gave a sheepish shrug in response, which only served to confirm Bilbo’s suspicions.

“Fine, I’m up, I’m up. Go make yourself look presentable Fili, your braids are a mess.” Bilbo managed to say through a yawn. Fili laughed.

“Auntie Bilbo strikes again.” The only response Bilbo dignified that with was a well-aimed pillow which hit Fili’s face with a rather satisfying _thwump_. Bilbo was absolutely not smirking at the shock on the blond prince’s face.

 

Fili picked up the pillow and chucked it back.

“You have been spending entirely too much time with Kili.” He grumbled. “Out of bed now, Uncle’s in a mood, and I don’t want to keep him waiting for longer than necessary.”

 

Bilbo muttered about idiotic moody dwarf kings whilst he shooed Fili out of his room so he could dress and freshen up a little. He did need to look respectable after all. He could hear Fili laughing outside the door, and found that he couldn’t even summon the energy to be indignant about it.

 

Once he was sorted, he and Fili joined Thorin and Balin, who seemed to be in a heated argument with Gandalf about something. Bilbo waited to hear what they were saying before coming any closer –

“-that is an heirloom of our people. As gracious as our hosts have been thus far, we cannot so easily share the secrets of our people!” Bilbo was surprised that Balin was the one most opposed to Elrond reading the map, but then remembered he was also reluctant the first time around.

“You have a map that you cannot read – Lord Elrond is millennia old and has forgotten more ancient Khuzdul dialects than any of you have ever learned, so it would be wise to see if there is anything he has to say on the matter.” Gandalf replied, his voice like that of an exasperated school teacher explaining to their pupil that no, they cannot hoard all the sweets, they have to be passed around the class to share. Thorin, he noticed, did not contribute to the argument, but merely looked his way and raised an eyebrow. It took a moment for Bilbo to realise that the dwarf king was waiting for his input on the matter, so he cleared his throat and both Balin and Gandalf turned to him curiously.

 

“Gandalf, dear friend, you’d do a lot better at convincing people of things if you stopped talking _down_ to them all the time. Wizard you may be, but you do not always know better than us little everyday folk.” He informed the wizard, who looked suitably sheepish and shamefaced. Good.

He then turned to Balin.

“And Balin, I understand that whatever secrets that map holds might be of huge cultural significance, but ask yourself right now whether it those secrets are worth the success of our quest.” Balin’s eyes fell to the floor and he sighed.

“Ach, the laddie’s right. We need all the help we can get in finding that door, and I’ll not be the cause of our failure if I can help it.” Though the dwarf might have looked put out, he was impressed by the hobbit’s reasoning. If there was one thing that Balin could appreciate, it was a skilled negotiator. Perhaps he could schedule in his own slot of time with the burglar to give him lessons in statecraft and politics.

 

“Now that’s all settled, let’s be getting on shall we? It wouldn’t do to keep Lord Elrond waiting now, would it?” Bilbo coaxed, and earned a snort from Thorin.

“No indeed. Let’s not try the patience of an _elf_ , Valar forbid.”

 

Elrond greeted them with all due formality, though he eyed Bilbo somewhat warily. The hobbit could hardly blame him after their last meeting, he supposed. Whilst he had only been speaking the truth, he supposed that he might have come across as quite rude.

 

Thorin held out the map, and Elrond took it gently and gracefully and began to scrutinize it.

“Cirth Ithil” He muttered after studying it for some long moments where Bilbo thought that Balin might have an aneurism and fall down dead from the stress of letting one of their precious heirlooms be held by an elf’s hands.

“Moon runes.” Bilbo and Gandalf translated together, before glancing at one and other in surprise.

“An easy thing to miss” Gandalf defended himself. Bilbo rolled his eyes.

“In this case, that is true – they can only be read by the light of the moon by which they were written. Fate is with you, Thorin Oakenshield – the same moon shines upon us tonight.”

 

Bilbo could almost feel the dread and anticipation in Thorin’s voice when he asked Elrond if he could read the map.

 

Elrond did not respond, but led them through many winding corridors that led to a viewing platform jutting out from the wall of the valley, where stood a stand of polished crystal. They all of them stood waiting for the moon’s light to reveal their path forward with bated breath.

 

“Stand by the grey stone when the thrush knocks” Elrond began translating, “and the setting sun with the last light of Durin’s Day will shine upon the keyhole.” Bilbo frowned – was it not the moon which had illuminated the keyhole before? But then he supposed that his memory had not been at his best when he had written his book. Perhaps it was simply possible to translate the phrase in more than one way, which was highly probable.

“Durin, Durin!” said Thorin. “He was the father of the fathers of the eldest race of Dwarves, the Longbeards, and my first ancestor: I am his heir.” Bilbo smiled. It warmed his old heart to hear the pride and joy in Thorin’s voice.

“Then what is Durin’s day?” asked Elrond.

“The first day of the dwarves’ New Year,” said Thorin, “is as all should know the first day of the last moon of Autumn on the threshold of Winter. We still call it Durin’s Day when the last moon of Autumn and the sun are in the sky together. But this will not help us much, I fear, for it passes our skill in these days to know when such a time will come again”. Well, this was something that Bilbo was rather amazed at – Thorin deigning to admit lacking a skill in front of an elf lord – good manners might be rubbing off on him at long last! What a pleasant thought that was, and Bilbo felt that, as long as Thorin didn’t ruin things by putting his foot in it in a minute or two, that thought could keep him happy for a while – teaching manners to kings, indeed!

“That remains to be seen,” said Gandalf, who turned to Lord Elrond to ask “Is there any more writing?”

“None to be seen by this moon” Elrond answered regretfully, folding the map and returning it to Thorin, studying the dwarf king for a long moment.

 

“There are some who would not deem your quest wise – until very recently, I would have been among them. But I have been reliably informed that it would be unjust of me to judge you harshly – I wish you luck.” He turned and with a graceful sweep of his robes, elegantly floated away, as elves tend to do.

 

“Well, that was odd.” Bilbo decided. “Come along, Thorin. I do believe I know a good place to smoke a pipe and think for a while.”

 

They sat in a nice cosy corner which had a good view – especially on a clear midsummer’s eve like this one, quietly making smoke rings. Oh how Bilbo had missed spending a quiet evening in contemplation over these past weeks – or was it nearer a month now? The days had all but blended together now. It felt like the memories were clamouring for space in his head some days swirling together and ending up in a mish-mash of nonsense. He just needed a little time in the quiet to get them all organised and behaving. It didn’t hurt that they could eavesdrop on Gandalf and Elrond’s conversation from here, either. He and Thorin smoked their pipe-weed in silence, listening to the conversation which the pair made little effort to hush.

 

“Well, yes – that is I meant to tell you of course – but how did you know?” Gandalf was spluttering, seeming to have a little difficulty keeping up with Lord Elrond’s pace.

“You are not half as subtle as you like to pretend, my old friend – the map of the lonely mountain, the displaced king of Erebor – what other conclusion am I to draw, where you are concerned?”

“I think you can trust that I know what I am doing.”

“Do you?” Elrond replied. “That dragon has slept for sixty years. What will happen if your plan should fail? If you wake that beast…” Bilbo tried not to visibly wince. Wake the beast they had, and it had been his very own fault too. He made a note never to mention barrels if he should find himself engaged in a game of wit with Smaug again.

 

“But if we succeed!” Gandalf pressed, convinced that his course of action was the right one, as always. “What if the dwarves take back the mountain, then our defences in the East will be strengthened.” And they’d need it too, if they had any idea what was to be upon them in another sixty years.

“It is a dangerous move, Gandalf” Elrond warned. Bilbo could see from the set of Gandalf’s brows that the wizard would not take no for an answer.

“It is also dangerous to do nothing!” he replied. “Oh, come – the throne is Thorin’s birthright! What is it you fear?” Elrond paused at this, which Bilbo had not expected.

 

“There is a strain of madness in that family, as you well know, Gandalf. And yet – I have been informed of late that it is unwise to cling to the past so, and that sons are not their fathers, nor are they their grandfathers, and should not be held accountable for their actions.”

 

“Well, he learned _something_ from our little chat, at least.” Bilbo huffed under his breath. Thorin looked at him oddly, but offered no words.

 

“All the same, Gandalf,” Elrond continued, “it is not up to you or me to redraw the map of Middle-Earth.” And after that they walked out of view and hearing of Thorin and Bilbo’s perch.

 

“What did you think of that, then?” Bilbo asked after they had sat for some time longer. Thorin was silent for a long time, and Bilbo feared that he might not answer at all.

“Elrond’s concerns are not entirely unfounded. But Gandalf is also correct in that reclaiming the mountain would provide better defences to the East. I had wondered what part we played in his scheming.” Bilbo hummed in agreement.

“As wizards go, he’s not so bad I suppose. I don’t know if I would have liked travelling with Rhadagast at all.” Bilbo admitted. “Still, it would be nice if he let us in on the bigger picture he has under that pointy hat of his.” That earned him a soft chuckle from Thorin.

“Come, Bilbo. Let us fetch the others. Elrond’s words have made me wary, and we should leave before our welcome grows thin.” Bilbo nodded his agreement.

“Very well. Lead on, Your Majesty.”

 

They gathered up the rest of the Company, raising them from the last decent night’s sleep they were allowed from here until Erebor, as far as any of the others knew. Secretly, Bilbo was rather looking forward to seeing Beorn again, if only because he knew that he should be sorely glad of cakes and honey by the time they reach the edge of Mirkwood.

 

They shoulder their packs and make for the pass to the Misty Mountains. Or they would have done, had they not been accosted by the twins.

“A shame it would be upon our house if we left our guests without a proper farewell.”

“You will not stop us.” Thorin told them. Bilbo wanted to smack him.

“They’re not going to stop us you idiot – they have gifts, look.”

And when Thorin looked, he did indeed see.

 

Elladan stepped forward first, arrows – short enough to be used by dwarf and hobbit alike – stacked underneath his arm.

“I noticed your quivers were nearly empty – there are goblins in those mountains, and friends don’t let friends go into goblin-lands under-armed.”

Kili and Bilbo took his gift with a brief thanks and shared the arrows evenly between their quivers.

Elrohir was next – he had an entire sack of lembas bread swung over his shoulder, which he began distributing evenly among the group.

“It is light, and one small bite is enough to fill a grown man – though perhaps not a hobbit!” He added jovially. Bilbo was floored by their generosity.

“Won’t your father be angry?”

“Oh, terribly.” Elladan assured. “But don’t you worry, it’s nothing we cannot weather.”

 

“We have done nothing to warrant this kindness.” Thorin uttered, in shock or awe, or a little of both, Bilbo was a little unsure.

“We would not have our friends return to the wild short of provisions, Master Dwarf. It has been a pleasure meeting all of you, and we would bid you visit when you can, once your halls are free of the dragon. Who are we to pester now that our favourite hobbit is leaving?”

 

“Oh _boys_ ” Bilbo admonished. “Get down here and give me a hug. I at least shall return, once this quest is done, and you may pester me to your heart’s content.” The two of them did so, though it was a little awkward, considering their difference in height. When they pulled away, Bilbo sighed, and was surprised by tears starting to sting his eyes – which he blinked back, as he didn’t wish the company to see what a sentimental old sap he was. “And you take good care of little Estel now, he’s a good lad but I get the feeling he’ll need someone to watch out for him.”

 

“Of course – we’re his foster brothers, how could we do otherwise?” They assured him. Elladan turned to Thorin, “We would aid you more if we could, but our place is by father’s side – we cannot go traipsing into the wild.”

Thorin inclined his head towards the elven lordlings.

“You have already given us more than ever I could have wished – I have perhaps been hasty in my judgement of an entire race for the misdeed of one. When my home is again my own, you shall be welcome to walk the halls of Erebor, you and your father.” Both elves bowed deeply in return.

“We would be deeply honoured, Your Majesty”

 

Again, they bid the twins their thanks, and now bid them farewell, and Fili and Kili out of all the dwarves would miss their newfound friends. But now they went onwards amid the twin’s farewells and wishes of good speed, with their hearts ready for more adventure, and with a knowledge of the road they must follow over the Misty Mountains to the land beyond.

 

Only, Bilbo couldn’t quite resist taking one last glance at the Hidden Valley before he left it behind once more.

 

“Master Baggins, I suggest you keep up.”

_Oh, shush and confusticate you, Thorin. Let me enjoy the view._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter was a pain to write for the first 2000 words or so, but then the twins took over from there and it seems Bilbo has adopted them too - he's just got a giant soft-spot for the youngsters, has old Bilbo. There is dialogue from both the book and the movie in this chapter, and I hope it fits in alright with the rest of my writing. But Rivendell is behind us now, and on we shall head to the Misty Mountains and Goblin tunnels that await. And at least they have lembas bread instead of just _cram_ to keep them going.
> 
> And of course, a certain little magic ring and it's riddle-loving caretaker.
> 
> I make no promises as to when the next chapter will be up, but I'm hoping it will be soon. Thank you all for always being so patient. I can't believe this story nearly has 1000 Kudos - thank you all so much for sticking with me on this long road, and may we journey together for a long time to come! I love you all, my dear readers, for sticking with me so long - and new readers you are also very welcome. If I could I would invite you all over for tea - and don't bother knocking!


	19. Under Goblin Town

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mountains, Goblins, and such other nastiness.  
> Warning: There is a small mention of severed hobbit feet - not Bilbo's I hasten to add.

Mountains. Why on earth he had _ever_ said to Gandalf that he wanted to see _mountains_ again was a mystery to Bilbo now. The trek through the Misty Mountains was thoroughly miserable, and not for the first time, he found himself sorely wishing for his pocket handkerchief. Mountains were dangerous, the paths through them precarious at best, and when it was raining? Absolute dratted death-traps – and he could not even wipe his face, for want of a blasted handkerchief!

 

_What I wouldn’t give for gentle hills and valleys_ , he allowed himself to think for but a moment, before nearly slipping to his death. Only Dwalin’s quick reflexes saved him from tumbling down the side of the mountain, never to be heard of again. There was little time to do anything except give a quick nod in thanks though, because then those dratted, confusticated, _bothersome_ stone giants just _had_ to start playing catch once they were halfway across the mountain. Bilbo just hoped they were further along than before because if they weren’t-

 

But oh no, there it was, the very ground on which they stood was suddenly lifting itself up to join in the violent game of _catch the giant boulder with your face._

“Oh, bother everything!” He exclaimed, along with Bofur’s much louder exclamation of “Bless me! The legends are true! _Stone Giants!”_ Honestly, how the dwarf could sound so positive about it was astonishing. Why on earth anyone would be excited to see giants made out of stone as they destroyed the very mountain they were standing on was beyond Bilbo’s comprehension.

 

“Fili, Kili! Move before that thing crushes you!” He yelled, and could only hope they heeded his warning and hurry along. Everything was a chaotic mass of dwarf and hobbit and no one knew which direction to go, and somehow and suddenly, Bilbo found himself knocked backwards in the shuffle, only just managing to grab hold of the ledge. Gripping on for dear life, he shut his eyes tight against the terror that he felt. For all his experience and wisdom gained through the years, Bilbo was only a very little fellow, after all, and it would be a very long fall.

 

And even now, he did not know that he would not just let go if he could see Thorin reaching for him – memories of a hand bruising your neck and dangling you from the battlements were not so easily forgotten, even though it happened a lifetime ago and yet not at all.

“Where’s Bilbo?” He heard through the sound of the rain and the clash of giants – he thought it was Bofur’s voice, but it could be anyone, Bilbo could hardly even hear the storm through the pounding of his heart in his ears. And suddenly he is being hauled up, just as suddenly as he fell, and is pulled backwards, right on top of Dwalin.

 

“Thought we’d lost our burglar.” Dwalin said after they had caught their breath. Bilbo half-expected Thorin to say something like he had the first time, if only out of worry. But their leader was curiously silent. Bilbo looked up, and found that he didn’t like what he saw on Thorin’s face at all. He tried to smile reassuringly as he stood up and helped Dwalin do the same.

“Not as easy as all that, Mister Dwalin, I’m afraid I’m like a bad penny, I keep turning up.” The false cheer in his voice did little to hide how much his words trembled on their way out, nor did it do anything to hide the shaking of his legs, and none of them would believe him if he said it were due to the cold. There was a momentary silence, after which Thorin declared he had found a cave where they might shelter.

 Strange, Bilbo did not recall any time passing.

 

Some of the others made a fuss about making a fire once they were in the cave, but Thorin shut them down quickly enough. “Caves in the mountain are seldom unoccupied.”

 

Curiously, that night it was not Bofur who kept watch, but Thorin himself. Bilbo had tried to get what sleep he could – he _had_ , but his muddled memories were giving him nightmares of things that hadn’t happened along with things that had. He managed not to scream or move or do anything other than stay completely still, but Thorin still noticed his discomfort.

 

“Are you well, Bilbo?” He asked, voice quiet enough not to wake the others. To be honest, Bilbo wanted to roll over and ignore this conversation, but soon enough they were going to have the ground fall from beneath them and fall into a putrid city of puss abscess filled goblins, so he might as well be awake and enjoy the fresh air whilst it lasted. He packed up his bedroll and made sure he had all his things, not answering Thorin, who mercifully refrained from talking any further until he had finished in his tasks.

“Feel better now you’ve done something with your hands?” He asked, and Bilbo looked up to find eyes filled with far too much understanding. Bilbo sighed, and then nodded.

“Is that what helps you?” He asked, genuinely curious. Thorin looked thoughtful for a moment.

“Most of the time. When members of my company don’t nearly plummet to their doom on the side of a sodden mountain.” He gave Bilbo a look that the hobbit was certain was meant to be a disapproving frown, but he’d spent too long in the Shire where such frowns followed him like shadows, they had long since ceased to have the desired effect. He had to resist the automatic urge of grinning like a maniac in response.

 

“Yes, well that was hardly intentional. None of us were expecting stone giants.” Thorin nodded to concede the point.

“I did not mean to imply that any fault for it lay with you, Bilbo – wait, your dagger, it’s-” Thorin’s eyes were wide, and he was standing in moments. Bilbo did not need to look to know that Sting was glowing blue, but he looked anyway.

“Up, up all of you!” Thorin bellowed. They roused the others as quickly as they could when they noticed the cracks in the floor, but they couldn’t prevent their fall. The sickening moment of having ground before his feet one moment and none the next was as horrid as Bilbo remembered, he had time to think as they plummeted through the floor.

 

Bilbo, to his great relief, did not land under any of the heavier dwarves, in fact, he landed at the top of the pile. The unpleasant side effect of this, of course, was that he was the first beset upon by the nasty, stinking goblins, though he did manage to poke out the eye of one of them.

 

And because he made a nuisance of himself, he also found it impossible to slip away in the confusion to find his ( _The_! Not _his_ , _The_! It did not belong to anyone other than its master) Ring, before they were brought before the Goblin King.

 

If there was one thing that was impossible to bear as they were all dragged before the Goblin King, it was the roaring din that the creatures substituted for music. They were jostled and hurried along to the tune of the song of Goblin Town, and Bilbo had hated every second of it.

 

He found himself, along with Fili, Kili, and young Ori in the front of the group as they were pushed forward to be inspected by the Goblin King, by pustule covered, malnourished creatures. Goblins were a sorry lot indeed, Bilbo thought in a detached kind of way as the goblin king leaned forward to inspect his prey.

 

Bilbo was almost certain that there would be some discussion of Azog paying for Thorin’s head once he was recognised, but instead, the grotesque creature’s gaze landed upon, and remained fixed on Bilbo himself. Bilbo did not dare even to breathe in that moment that seemed to stretch on forever, and felt his stomach sink into his toes. There was a reason no hobbit lightly ventured close to the Misty Mountains, and not just because they were unadventurous by nature. Goblins have long memories, and they haven’t forgotten hobbits, but nor have hobbits forgotten them.

 

“The dwarves have brought us a gift, my subjects!” He announced to the cavern around them, where goblins of all shapes and all stages of decay were shouting and jeering. “It’s a special day in Goblin Town when a hobbit trespasses on our land.”

“You will not touch him, filth!” Came Thorin’s shout. For which Bilbo was grateful, but they had all been divested of their weapons – Fili still had at least half of his, Bilbo was sure, but as for the rest of them… goblins were not something to be fought bare-handed, at any rate. He hoped Thorin would at least _try_ to remember that.

“Oh, Thorin Oakenshield, the King with no mountain, you have no power here. I’ll let you go free, just this once, since you brought us such a special gift.” The goblin king laughed, leering down at them menacingly. There were shouts of protests from all the dwarves, Thorin’s being the loudest and most creative, but Bilbo stepped forward.

 

“And what would you intend for me, once they are on their way?” he demanded, sounding far more confident than he felt. He doubt it was anything as pleasant as a chat over afternoon tea. The goblin king barked out an order to “hoist up the trophy racks” and what Bilbo then saw made him see red. He had never felt such anger as he did then, as the macabre displays were winched into sight.

 

Feet. Pairs of feet in varying states of decay stuck on the ends of wooden poles. Some were only bone, held to their stakes by crude twine, others looked like they had been hacked off mere weeks or months before now. Bilbo counted carefully. The number nearly matched the number of hobbits that had gone missing from the Shire, never to return. And there could be no doubt, from the size or shape, which these were indeed the feet of hobbits. Tooks, for the most part, if they did match those of hobbits long lost. His kin, his _cousins_. Butchered and hacked to pieces by goblins. He hated himself for hoping they’d been killed before such grisly dismemberment, though he knew that goblins showed no such mercy to their prey.

 

“Why did you come here, little hobbit?” the king taunted, but Bilbo could not, would not listen. All that filled his thoughts were that these disgusting trophies were the only thing left of some of his relatives, and fear and rage competed to gain a foothold in his heart. He could only be thankful he did not have the ring.

“You smell like a Took.” The goblin continued when Bilbo made no attempt at a reply.

Thorin watched Bilbo with an immense sense of dread. Yet goblins grabbed him and held him still from all sides, so he could do nothing to aid his friend. He would be forced once again to watch as someone he cared about was cut down before their time. Not here, not like this, not him – not _Bilbo_!

 

Before Thorin or the others had a chance to do something reckless, Bilbo spoke up, his quiet voice powerful in the sudden silence it caused.

“Tell, me, O’ King of Goblins, who cleaved your forebear’s head from his shoulders? Was it a man? Elf? Dwarf? An Ent?” He asked, fury and horror bubbling in his breast, and yet his words, when he spoke them, were deceptively soft, feathery like down. “It was none of these. Was it an orc, then? A warg? Not these. A hobbit killed the Goblin King. A hobbit, and a Took at that.” Bilbo took a breath to steady himself as he went on, feeling nauseous from the goblin’s stench as much as anything else. “You stand there and call me Took and sneer, show me that you and yours have killed and butchered _my kin_ , and you stand above me and look down as if you have nothing to fear? I am Bilbo Baggins, of Bag-End. I am a hobbit and a Took and I will not forgive you for killing _my people_!” His voice had risen in the end, and Thorin saw the anger and the grief in his friend’s eyes, and struggled harder to break free as Bilbo charged towards the Goblin King.

 

Just at that moment all the lights in the cavern went out, and the great fire went off poof! Into a tower of blue glowing smoke, right up to the roof, that scattered piercing white sparks all among the goblins – (The Hobbit, p.61)

In the confusion, the goblins loosened their grips on the dwarves, who were able to get themselves free.

“Take up arms, fight!” Boomed Gandalf’s voice in the darkness, and Thorin had never been so glad for the existence of wizards. Someone handed him Orcrist, and he gladly took it, slicing into goblin after goblin. Other dwarves regained their weapons and joined in.

“Is there any end to them?” Came Kili’s voice from Thorin’s left.

“I don’t want to stay here long enough to find out.” Muttered Ori, but no one paid much heed, busy fighting for their lives.

The lights came back up, and the remaining goblins were dazed and stunned by the sudden brightness, but they wouldn’t stay that way for long.

“We must leave!” Gandalf told them. “The only thing that will save us is sunlight!”

 

Thorin took a quick count of the company members – he found his nephews first, then Dwalin, Ori, Nori and Balin. Bofur, Bifur and Bombur, Dori, Oin and Gloin – “Where is Bilbo?”

 

“I’m right here Thorin. Let’s go. They won’t stay like this forever, and we need to be gone when they come to their senses.” Bilbo sounded weary beyond words, and Thorin saw that goblin blood stained his small blade right up to the hilt. When he saw Thorin’s gaze drift to the sword, Bilbo gave him a wry smile and nodded over to where he had stood before the Goblin King. There, lying prone upon his throne, blood slowly trickling from his throat, was the Goblin King himself. The Company looked upon the scene in stunned silence. Ori was the one who broke it.

 

“Mister Bilbo… what should we do about the…” He gestured to the gorey remains of hobbit feet.

“Burn them.” Bilbo stated in a flat monotone. “There’s no time to give them anything better.” The older dwarves winced in sympathy, and Gandalf set the mutilated remains of the hobbits ablaze at once.

Then they were on their way, dodging and slicing past and through any goblins who barred their path.

 

Bilbo kept up with the rest of them, but he couldn’t shake the feeling that he should just jump into the chasm and hope to find Gollum – who knew what fate would befall that sad creature and the Ring if Bilbo did not find it? But Thorin was keeping him close now, and not letting him slip out of sight as they dashed madly through the halls. Part of him also wanted to go and murder every goblin there because of what had been done to those hobbits who had wandered before him. It wasn’t fair that he got to live twice whilst those poor souls didn’t even get one full life. He wanted to scream and shout and find a quiet corner to cry his eyes out all at once. He was only such a little fellow, after all, to have so many big feelings all at once, and they got all tangled up in his heart.

 

Before long, the dark caverns Gandalf hurried them through gave way to the light of a midday sun, and once they were clear of the caves, the entirety of the company collapsed gratefully onto solid ground. Only Thorin and Bilbo remained on edge, scanning the surroundings for anything that might be lurking.

 

Fili was the first of the Company to stand again, after they spent a few minutes regaining their breath, and he came towards Bilbo, looking awkward. Bilbo could tell from the way he kept opening his mouth and closing it again that he had a question he wanted to ask.

“What is it, Fili lad?” he asked, too tired and emotionally drained for dancing around things.

“I… well, that is. How do hobbits mourn? Is there any way we can honour your fallen kin with you? Or is it something private?”

 

Bilbo was so surprised and moved by the question, and the gentle, considerate look in the prince’s eyes that he did not stop to consider that such things were not something a hobbit should be sharing with anyone outside the Shire. He noted that the other dwarves were all looking at them now, and Bilbo sighed.

 

“To answer that properly, I need to tell a story. One that some of you have heard already, but I believe it’s about time I told all of you.” He glanced up. The sun was high in the sky. They had time enough for this before they were running for their lives again. Fili’s eyes widened, and Thorin came to his side. “Bilbo, are you sure?”

“Quite sure, Thorin. Now, is everyone settled comfortably? This story begins in November, T.A. 2911, or 1311 in Shire Reckoning. There lived a young hobbit, with his father, his mother – and his younger brother. The winter was early that year, and the crops failed. So we rationed our food whilst we waited for aid from the Rangers, and we thought all would be well. But all was not well. The Brandywine river, which has long protected our borders, had frozen solid, and hobbits were not the only ones going hungry that winter.” He paused, and looked around the group – all of them were listening in rapt attention. Bilbo noted that Balin and Dwalin were the only ones who seemed to realise where this was going, their faces grim.

“Now, hobbits used to bury their dead. Not too deep, so they could still feel the sun on their face, so the old superstition goes.” Bilbo told his audience.

“The problem with shallow graves, however, is that hungry wolves don’t care if they’re digging up your beloved great aunt Petunia who only died of hunger a week ago – a wolf’s got to eat, don’t you know. But they ran out of dead to eat – they got bolder, attacking the living. The elderly, the children, first. And it didn’t stop at wolves, either. But the young hobbit’s mother was a Took, don’t you see, and he thought he was safe. After all, she was the best shot in the Shire. Better than an elf, maybe.” Bilbo’s voice cracked with tears when he thought of his mother. “But the hobbit’s father grew sick from the cold and the hunger, and he died. His mother died not long after, bitten by wolves and not willing to put her children in danger. And so, the hobbit boy, and his little brother, Will, were left alone, with only each other to cling to.”

 

Bilbo stopped here, and gauged the reactions of the company. Balin and Dwalin were still looking grim and stoic, but were standing closer now, shoulder to shoulder. Dori had an arm around Ori, and his hand hovered next to Nori, who looked pale. Bifur stood above Bofur and Bombur, who were sitting together, watching Bilbo with sad eyes. Gloin was translating Bilbo’s words into the dwarves’ language of signs for Oin, and his hands shook while he did so. Fili kept eye contact with Bilbo, whilst Kili clung close to his brother, and Thorin?

Thorin had stood by Bilbo’s side through the story, but now he moved closer and gripped his shoulder. Bilbo smiled, and blinked back tears.

“But Wolves and their larger, more ferocious cousins have no care for such bonds as brothers have.” Bilbo could hardly bear the looks of pity from the Company, but still he spoke, though his voice was awash with grief, for his brother, for the hobbits the Goblin King had taken, for all his friends as he knew them before – the king who had begged his forgiveness, the princes cut down before their time. “A warg broke down the door to our home and grabbed Will, dragging him down the hill. There were orcs then too. Probably a small hunting party, glad to have their pet sniff out some sport.” He snorted bitterly. “Will was screaming – I ran at the thing with the axe I was using to chop wood. I hit it hard enough so it dropped him, and ran with him into the woods. I climbed up a tree, tried to use my waistcoat as a bandage, but it was far too late. I sang him to sleep, one last time. My little brother was dead.”

 

There, it was out, he had said it in front of the whole Company. And though he was heavy with grief, the words had untangled it from his heart, and he felt lighter too.

“The Rangers came, a day later, and found me still in the tree. Arathorn was very kind. And there were so many dead that winter, when the snow and ice thawed, and nowhere to bury them all. So they were burned, and fed the soil of the Old Forest. To answer your question properly, Fili - we bury them deeper now. Deeper in the dirt and deeper in our hearts. And we still lay flowers. Lillies for grief, poppies for remembrance. Their favourite flower while they lived, ones with other meanings, depending on the hobbit. And we sing songs. Not sad death-songs as I have heard men and elves both sing, but soft songs, sleeping songs, so as that they might rest in gentle peace. And later, in inns or taverns, or a large smial, happy songs of their lives, and what they meant to us. It's nothing overly private. But I have no heart for songs in the shadow of such a mountain as this.”

 

None of the dwarves seemed willing to speak, to break the spell that Bilbo’s tale had woven among them, but Thorin eventually found the will to move, and wrapped Bilbo in a hug that bruised his ribs.

 

“Thorin-” He protested weakly, trying to wriggle out of the embrace.

“Shush. Let me hug you, stupid brave hobbit. You could have died!” Thorin said mulishly, only holding him tighter, and Bilbo wanted to laugh.

“And I, or any of the rest of you, very well still might. We are nowhere near the journey’s end, and much bars our way besides a dragon – and would you please let go? You and your ridiculous furs are going to murder me through suffocation before anything else has a chance to get at me!” That got a laugh from the rest of the company, though a weak one, as Thorin hastily let go.

 

“Aye, we’ve a ways to go yet” Agreed Dwalin, his voice sounding suspiciously hoarse. “And it looks like you’ll have to rename your sword, Thorin, because our Bilbo’s the Goblin-Cleaver around here!”

 

That prompted more genuine laughter from everyone, though mostly because of the mortified look on Bilbo’s face.

“No!” He exclaimed. “That is not going to be my epithet. I refuse. At least be original, for Valar’s sake.”

“How about Bilbo the Brave?” Ori suggested. _No_ , Bilbo wanted to scream, _that title belongs to Samwise, not me_. But the dwarves didn’t know that. How could they know? But the others were throwing out suggestions all over the place, and Ori’s was forgotten – Bilbo could not be more thankful.

“Bilbo the Bold” Kili said, and the others seemed to unanimously decide that this was the right title, for reasons Bilbo could not begin to fathom. He looked to Thorin, but by his side the king merely shrugged.

“Better to embrace it. The longer you ignore it, the more they insist, until they’re chanting it outside your room at unreasonable hours of the night.” Bilbo grimaced in sympathy – sounded like that was from experience. He supposed he could live with Bilbo the Bold. Another title he could give Smaug in lieu of a name.

 

Just when Bilbo was beginning to let his guard down, and let the dwarves hug him and give him their sympathies and whatever else they thought appropriate, the chilling howl of a warg cut through the air like a knife, and standing on a rise above them, was Azog the Defiler, astride his White Warg. A warg, incidentally, which had a scar across its nose – about the right size for a hobbit-made axe. Bilbo’s eyes widened in recognition. It couldn’t be…

 

“Out of the frying pan…”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And so, the prodigal writer returns, eh? I'm sorry it's been so long, and thank you so much for all your support in regards to my studies. I've got my degree now, and been working pretty much full time since then, and just didn't feel like writing for a long while, but I'm back now, and hopefully will at least get a few more chapters done in the coming weeks, rather than more than half a year later than I promised.
> 
> What of Gollum, you ask? And of The Ring? we shall see, in time.


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